


Saturation

by JaneDavitt, wesleysgirl



Series: Saturation [1]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Angst, Established Relationship, First Time, M/M, Post-Series, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-21
Updated: 2011-06-21
Packaged: 2017-10-20 15:04:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 75,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaneDavitt/pseuds/JaneDavitt, https://archiveofourown.org/users/wesleysgirl/pseuds/wesleysgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post 'Chosen'. What happens when you think you're perfectly happy with someone - and then there's a knock at the door and it all changes?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Saturation

**Author's Note:**

> Our thanks to Ginnylovesspike for beta reading. She's no longer with us, but she's not forgotten.

Saturation

"God," Xander gasped, as the next thrust shoved him into the table he was leaning over with enough force that the table actually _moved_ , sliding across the floor an inch or two with a groaned protest of wood. He pushed back to meet the next thrust, and the table moved again, squeaking this time. He had to put his trust in it -- and his abilities -- and assume that it wasn't going to collapse underneath their combined weight; at least, if it didn't, he'd know it was well-built. He wondered, a bit hysterically, if he could advertise that his carpentry was sound enough to withstand a good hard fuck then the hand that wasn't pressing down on the small of his back closed unexpectedly around his cock and Xander cried out, panting. "God! Yeah, like that, fuck..."

There was a breathless chuckle that became a groan, and then the hand moved sharply back and forward, again and again, perfectly timed with the fast, hard slams that drove the table forward again, because no matter how much Xander tried to brace himself against an onslaught like this, he didn't stand a chance.

It didn't help that his legs, unlike the table's, were wobbling.

He was grunting with every thrust now, shoving back to meet the cock that slid back and forth inside him, fucking his own dick into the grip that knew just how tightly to squeeze, and just where...With a series of soft cries, Xander came, his pants around his ankles and his eyes clenched shut, his hands clutching onto the sides of the table until his fingers were almost numb.

He got three more strokes, fast and deep enough to blend into one, and then he felt the hand on his back clench and grab at smooth skin, and heard his name in the middle of an incoherent jumble of words which somehow made perfect sense just then.

A large hand, strong and lacking the scrapes, nicks and calluses of his own, came down on the table beside his head, and he felt the warm, comforting weight of a body against his back, and a kiss on his shoulder, clumsier than usual because there was a lot of panting and catching of breath going on.

Attempting a conversational tone despite his own shaky breathing, Xander offered, "I'm pretty sure I said this last time, but you can feel free to come down and visit me on your lunch break whenever you want."

"Only on the days where I don't require a functioning brain in the afternoon." The weight left him, the hand that had been wrapped around his cock shifting briefly to his hip as they moved apart. "You have a terrible effect on my powers of concentration, you know."

"You say that like it's a bad thing," Xander said, turning around and looking at Giles with affection then glancing down at himself. "Although I'm thinking there's going to be a rule about bringing me a change of clothes along with the lunch." He hitched up his pants and moved over to the sink, giving his hands a quick rinse, and then cleaning himself off as best he could with a handful of paper towels. He took a second handful over to Giles and gave them to him along with a kiss, leaning against the somewhat abused table in the back room of his carpentry shop as Giles put himself back together.

"The lunch we haven't eaten yet," Giles reminded him, nodding at the paper bag from the corner shop that was on the way between their house and Xander's workshop. The hand-made sandwiches it contained were made of thick, crusty slices of bread, filled with whatever Mrs. Collins felt like using, take it or leave it. Xander wasn't sure about the egg salad she'd sold him the previous Tuesday, but if it was a roast beef with horseradish day he was going to stop off on his way home and propose to her. He was sure Giles wouldn't mind.

Suddenly remembering, Xander went from sated to worried. "Are you going to have time to eat? I thought you had that meeting this afternoon."

"I do," Giles said, glancing at his watch. "And as it's been rescheduled twice, thanks to various crises, I suppose I hadn't better be late." He took a wrapped sandwich and a can of lemonade out of the bag. "I'll take a taxi and eat on the way."

Xander frowned and pulled Giles in for another kiss. "I'd apologize, but there's that whole thing where you started it. See you tonight?"

"Tonight," Giles agreed, turning the handle that led to the main part of the rented shop and disappearing through the doorway.

After quickly eating his own lunch, Xander got back to work. It seemed like he'd had the shop for years, but really it had only been a little over six months. He'd tried a stint working for someone else that had ended when it became clear that it just wasn't a good match. It wasn't that Xander couldn't take orders -- heck, his time with Anya would have been enough to prove that he could, and the almost-year that he'd been with Giles cemented that proof pretty firmly. It was more that there'd been a difference of vision. And under other circumstances _that_ was something Xander was familiar with, too. He'd eventually caved to Giles' quiet persistence and been fitted for a glass eye, and he had to admit that Giles was right; he was a lot less self-conscious with it than he'd been with the patch. It made it easier for him to forget that he was different.

He finished up the special order he'd been working on and moved to a project of his own, one that he was idly thinking about putting in the living room. Not that they didn't have a table there already, but it was just a standard, boring kind of thing, not well-built and without any creativity in its design, and Xander had this desire to fill their home with furniture he'd built himself.

It might take years, but he and Giles had talked enough that Xander didn't have any reason to think they wouldn't have them.

He was so into his work that he lost track of time and almost ended up leaving the shop late. Hurriedly, he cleaned and put away his tools, turning over the 'We're Open' sign that Giles had presented him with the first morning he'd officially _been_ open, and making sure to lock the door. Technically, Xander had already paid Giles back the money he'd loaned him when he'd first rented the shop, but it still felt, weirdly, like the place was part Giles', even though Xander was making more than enough to pay the bills and even some of their household expenses now.

The lights were already on by the time he'd walked back to the house. "Hey, I'm home!" Xander called, as he shut the door behind him.

"And for once, I'm back first," Giles said, appearing in the doorway at the end of the hallway that led into the kitchen. He leaned against the door jamb and lifted an eyebrow, looking, Xander thought, pretty happy about them both being around at a reasonable hour. "I seem to recall when I come in, you usually do something." He straightened up and began to walk slowly towards Xander. "Refresh my memory," he said softly when he reached him, standing close enough that Xander could smell freshly-showered Giles, his hair still slightly damp. "Do I ask you how your day went and then kiss you, or the other way around?"

Xander shrugged out of his coat and put his arms around Giles, wondering what the chances were of Giles agreeing to abandon plans for dinner and just go upstairs to bed. Slim, he decided, considering their lunchtime quickie. "I don't think it matters which one you do first," he said. "My day was great, actually. How was yours?"

"If I get to choose, I'll tell you later," Giles said, slipping his hand behind Xander's neck and kissing him. You could tell a lot from a kiss, Xander had discovered. This was one of those ones that started out as a simple press of Giles' mouth against his, and a blink later they were wrapped around each other, tongues touching, sliding, teasing, as a single kiss became an uncounted number of slow, heated kisses that didn't stop.

Just like the first one they'd had, in fact.

Xander wasn't sure how long it would've taken for him and Giles to admit why they were both on edge and snappy without that first kiss. He'd come back from Africa and moved into Giles' spare room until he found a place of his own. Giles had been stressed out because of the whole taking over the Council deal; Xander was still dealing with watching Sunnydale vanish, taking with it Anya, way too many new Slayers, and Spike. Although Spike had come back. Yeah. And about the only bright bit about that news had come from picturing Angel having to deal with him, with staking not an option.

So the way he and Giles had gone from close friends to irritated, barely speaking and bad-tempered hadn't been too hard to explain away.

It just hadn't occurred to either of them that the closer Xander got to finding somewhere else to live, the worse it got. Because by then the only place Xander wanted to wake up was naked and next to Giles, and he was only trudging around looking at places that made Spike's crypt look homey and still cost more than he could afford because he thought Giles was sick of the sight of him and wanted him gone.

And Giles had been doing repressed English guy not hitting on a younger man he'd known for years, and doing it so well Xander had never guessed –

He shuddered at the thought of how close he'd come to leaving, and Giles broke the kiss and stared at him. "What?" he murmured, moving back in for one last nibble at Xander's lip that might've just started another round of kisses if Giles was persistent. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah," Xander said gently, looking at Giles and raising both hands to cup his face. "Yeah, everything's fine." And this time _he_ was the one who took control of the kiss, speeding it up, tasting the inside of Giles' mouth again and again until they didn't have any choice but to pull back gasping. "Don't suppose I could talk you into postponing dinner half an hour? Um, assuming there's actually a plan for dinner."

"'Dinner'?" Giles repeated, looking, Xander thought smugly, like a man who'd forgotten half the English language. "Oh... _dinner_." He glanced back at the kitchen. "I just put a shepherd's pie in the oven. It'll be an hour at least." He smiled. "I hope you're not too hungry by then."

"I'm hungry now," Xander said, running his hands over Giles' back. "Just not for food." It sounded kind of dorky, but he meant it, and he kissed Giles harder so there wouldn't be any question. "An hour, huh?"

"I could turn it down," Giles offered. "Or even off altogether. But I think an hour is plenty of time." He closed his eyes as Xander moved his hands lower; grabbing Giles' ass had stopped being dry-mouth terrifying, in a hot kind of way, and just become so natural that the only thought he had when he did it was how good it felt. "More than enough -- Xander, if you want us to make it to the bed, please stop that."

He didn't sound very convincing, but he had a point.

Xander pulled his hands back then slid one across the front of Giles' trousers lightly. "What about this?" he asked, feigning innocence. "Can I do this?"

Giles grabbed his hand, but not before he'd felt just how hard Giles was, and then the other, sweeping them behind Xander's back and pinning them there, with Xander grinning and letting him, because teasing Giles usually paid off one way or another. "I don't think so," Giles said, wrapping one hand around both Xander's wrists which freed up his other. "But I don't see why I can't do this –" He turned Xander so that his back was to the wall and thumbed open the button on Xander's jeans, before easing the zip down with all due care and attention for Xander's erection which was getting in the way. "And this..."

Xander moaned against Giles' mouth as he was kissed again with Giles' fingers curled around his cock, stroking it maddeningly slowly.

"Want me to finish this here?" Giles asked, moving to kiss Xander's neck, his voice husky. "Want my mouth on you? Or did you have other plans?"

"Plans?" Xander repeated, in something more like a squeak than a regular voice, rocking his hips and letting his head fall back against the wall. "God, _Giles,_ please." He struggled a little bit, curious to see what Giles would do, but not making a real effort to free his hands.

"God, I'm going to come home early more often," Giles said, bending his head and biting gently at Xander's chest through his T-shirt, licking at the small bump of Xander's nipple as Xander tried to remember to keep breathing. "Still think we should've gone upstairs though." His teeth fastened around fabric and skin, digging in just hard enough to make Xander shudder, his thumb tracing circles on the inside of one of Xander's wrists. "But now I'm hungry, too –"

He slid to his knees without changing the position of his hands and rubbed Xander's cock against his closed lips, letting Xander push forward and part them, feeling lips and teeth yield so that he could slip inside Giles' eager, waiting mouth.

In his head, Xander was chanting something that had the word 'God' in it, which was kind of funny, because he was pretty sure he didn't even believe in God. Still, if he _had_ believed, the way Giles' mouth felt around his cock would have been more proof than he'd need. Hot, and slick, and that thing Giles did with his _tongue_ \-- Xander closed his eyes and took a shivering breath that felt like it went into his lungs crooked, or maybe that was the world tilting when Giles sucked harder on the tip of his cock. Xander gasped and swore, pulling against Giles' hand on his wrists again.

Giles slackened his grip and then released him, scraping the edge of his thumbnail across Xander's palm as he dragged his hand away, which set up a chain reaction that left Xander slamming his fist back against the wall as his hips jerked forward, because if Giles kept doing stuff like that, this was going to be over _really_ soon.

"Fuck," he muttered as Giles pulled back and concentrated all his attention on the tip of Xander's cock, licking over the super-sensitized skin there. Xander felt the ache in his balls as a drop of pre-come formed only to be licked away by a quick, flat swipe of Giles' tongue, and he groaned. "I'm not... gonna last another five minutes if you keep doing that," he managed to get out.

Giles sat back on his heels and glanced up at him, his hand still tight around the base of Xander's cock. "Do you want me to stop?" Only Giles could sound so serious and curious at the same time. At _this_ time.

"Yes," Xander said. "I mean, no, I just..." He took a slow, deep breath and let it out. "It would be easier to answer that question if you weren't on your knees in front of me," he pointed out.

Giles considered that for a moment, and then shrugged and stood up, linking his hand with Xander's. "I'll take it as a yes then," he said, starting to walk towards the stairs. "But only because I want to take full advantage of the fact that we're somewhere I can get you naked without risking splinters."

"You think I haven't had a few splinters before?" Xander asked, going along willingly. Their little quickie in the back of his shop had been beyond hot, but he was just as happy to have sex in bed. _Their_ bed, a thought that never failed to make him smile. Upstairs, he started to take off his own clothes, but Giles stopped him and undressed him slowly, running hands and mouth over each bit of bare skin as it was exposed until Xander was quivering with arousal again, his own hands fumbling with the front of Giles' trousers in an awkward attempt to get them open.

"Let me do that," Giles murmured, stepping back and managing to get out of all his clothes in about the same length of time he'd just taken to peel Xander's T-shirt over his head. His gaze never left Xander, travelling over his body with a frank appreciation that intensified and deepened as their eyes met. "Better?" he asked, as they lay down and began to kiss again, bodies tight against each other.

"Much better," Xander agreed, rolling onto his back and pulling Giles on top of him. He liked to feel Giles' weight on him, heavy, solid, comforting. Like this, it was easy to believe that everything was right with the world. Well, for as long as it lasted, anyway. Giles' mouth was hard, insistent, reminding Xander to zero his attention in on Giles and keep it there. Giles rocked against him, erection sliding almost painfully along Xander's pelvic bone, and Xander curled his leg around both of Giles', offering without saying a word.

He felt Giles' hand slip down between them; tracing a path across Xander's stomach, pausing to curl briefly around a cock Xander didn't think could get any harder and then dipping down. Xander made a sound he hoped came across as encouraging rather than needy, although he didn't really mind Giles knowing just what effect he had on him, and felt his balls tighten as Giles cupped them, rolling them gently before letting his fingers drift back to stroke over skin exposed by the position Xander was in, making Xander arch up against him and come close to whimpering.

Xander shifted, trying not to let his heel dig too hard into the back of Giles' thigh as those fingers stroked again, just the lightest brush over skin so awake with nerve-endings that this time he _did_ whimper, right on the verge of begging Giles to do something more, to thrust inside him with fingers or even better, cock, when the phone gave a shrill ring that made them both twitch and then groan.

"Don't get it," Xander said, even though he knew Giles had to. Being the head of the Watchers Council wasn't the kind of job that ended when you came home from the office.

Giles looked tempted, but even before he sighed, rolled off Xander, and reached out to grab at the phone by the bed, Xander knew sex before dinner was doomed. This number was unlisted, so it wasn't going to be someone trying to sell them something; the best they could hope for was that it was a friend like Buffy or Willow, calling to chat.

"Yes?"

Giles sounded terse and he started to frown two seconds in. Work. Giving Xander an apologetic look that turned into something a lot more frustrated as he glanced down at them both, still hard, he stood up and began to pull on his shorts and slacks one-handed. "I've got the details in my study. Hang on." He turned, mouthed, "Sorry," and left the room.

With a loud sigh, Xander flopped over onto his back again and stared up at the ceiling, which was a slightly off shade of white that looked almost gray in the dim light from the one lamp over on Giles' dresser. He listened to the sound of Giles' feet on the stairs as he went down to the study. Xander couldn't help but be irritated at the interruption, although on the other hand it wasn't like Giles could just let the machine get it and pretend he didn't hear. Sometimes it really _was_ important. Although there were definitely times when Xander would have given a lot to know that he was, too. His stomach rumbled -- lunch had been hours ago -- so he got up and got dressed and headed down to the kitchen, Giles' soft voice as he talked to whoever drifting over him as he opened the oven. The rich smell of the gravy in the shepherd's pie, bought up the street at the shop that made them for people to reheat at home, made his stomach growl again, but a quick glance at the clock showed that it still had another forty minutes at least. Xander dug around in the back of the cupboard until he found a half-eaten box of cookies. Of course, they were British cookies, so you were supposed to call them biscuits, but Xander was stubborn and refused to go there. They were cookies, damn it. Chocolate plus sugar in a round, cookie-like format was a cookie, _not_ a biscuit.

By the time Giles came back into the kitchen, he'd eaten three.

"You'll ruin your appetite," Giles said mildly. He came over to snag one from the packet. "I take it we're giving up on finishing what we started until later?"

Xander nodded without speaking, grateful for the mouthful of cookie that made silence look like good manners, not sulking. Because he wasn't.

"I'll go and finish dressing then," Giles said with a sigh. "And it _was_ something I had to deal with, but I do wish they wouldn't -- well, never mind." He bit into the cookie and walked towards the door.

If he hadn't been a guy, Xander reflected, he might have told Giles not to go. Suggested that they talk about it. But he _was_ a guy, and he didn't really want to talk, because talking didn't change things. Giles had to be available to the people at work, and neither of them liked it. It was just a fact. Sighing, Xander put the box of cookies, now almost empty, back in the cupboard before he really _did_ ruin his appetite, and started upstairs for a sweatshirt. The days had been warmer lately, but the nights were still cool. As he put his foot on the bottom step, two things happened at once -- Giles appeared at the top of the stairs and there was a knock at the front door. Xander turned toward the door. "Got it," he said, reaching for the handle. "Although I really, really hope that you're not giving out our home address to anyone at work who might decide they want you to, I don't know, verify the authenticity of a magical paperclip or something." He opened the door before Giles could answer and froze in surprise.

"What the hell are you doing here, Harris?"

If anything, Spike looked almost as taken aback as Xander felt. Not enough to render him speechless, of course. Xander didn't think anything could do that. He blinked, taking in the details. Spike. Hair a little longer, but still bleached until it hurt to think of how much peroxide had soaked into each strand. Jeans, a black shirt, a battered leather jacket -- no duster. God, how he'd hated that coat, reeking of cigarettes and blood. Spike's second skin, his armor. Without it, Spike looked smaller somehow; almost defenseless. Xander's gaze shifted down and his eyes widened in alarm, but it was too late.

Spike, and his suitcase, pushed past Xander, and he was left to gape as Spike beamed up at Giles and said, "Giles. How've you been? Good to see you, mate. Hope you don't mind me turning up like this, but I need a favor."

"What the... but you..." Xander turned, shutting the door automatically, because that was just what you _did_ after someone came in, you shut the door. Even if that someone was Spike. "We didn't invite you in!" He looked at the door, and then at Giles as he came down the stairs. "Doesn't that work in England?"

"It does," Giles said a little grimly. "And even if it's never warm enough to suit you, our sunlight's equally effective at setting vampires alight, yet Spike seems singularly lacking in scorch marks." He raised his eyebrows at Spike. "Well?"

"Come on, Rupert. You can make a guess, can't you?" Spike dropped his suitcase onto the floor and took out a battered pack of cigarettes, using, Xander noted, a regular cheap lighter to light the one he stuck between his lips. Then, holding both hands out at his sides, Spike said, "Not a vampire anymore, am I."

Xander was so surprised that he could hardly move. "What do you mean, you're not a vampire anymore?"

"Need me to use smaller words?" Spike asked, smirking.

"No, I think we grasp the concept," Giles said evenly. "I just require a little more proof and then an explanation." He walked over to Spike and stared down at him. "You can save the part where you ask me for a favor and I say 'no' for an encore."

Despite his confusion and the amount of time that had passed since he'd last seen it, there was little Xander liked more than seeing Giles order Spike around.

"You think it was my idea to come here?" Spike said with a scoff. "Not bloody likely. Angel sent me. Says I'm your problem now."

"Why's that?" Xander asked.

"Yes," Giles said, sounding more English with every word. "I find myself curious as to why I'm Angel's first choice of babysitter as well. Some form of revenge, perhaps? Did I forget to send him a birthday card? Since when was he not well able to deal with you himself?" Giles' eyes widened. "Oh my God -- is Angel human, too?"

Spike raised his head at that, and for a second Xander totally couldn't read what was going on behind his eyes. Then, "Nah," Spike said easily. "Signed it away and I ended up with it."

"Signed what away?" Xander asked, exasperated.

"Shanshu," Spike said, leaning against the wall. "Special destiny for the vampire with a soul? Dies so that he can live?" When Xander and Giles continued to look at him blankly, he sighed. "Don't you people talk to each other? First there was Andrew and the Gandalf thing, and now this. Again, from the top... there's this prophecy about a vampire with a soul turning human. Angel agreed not to take it in exchange for some bloody thing or other he wanted, and apparently that meant I got it."

Xander was glad to see that Giles looked as baffled as he was feeling.

"Is this connected with you dying when you closed the Hellmouth?" Giles asked slowly. "Because from what Andrew told us -- and yes, there was a Tolkienesque theme as I recall -- you were still a vampire once you'd ceased to be a ghost. And now -"

He reached out and placed his fingers against Spike's neck, moving them carefully until he found what he was looking for.

A pulse.

Xander swallowed hard, dealing with an unexpectedly strong reaction to seeing Giles and Spike that close, with Giles' fingers stroking skin that, now that he was looking carefully, was slightly tanned. It wasn't jealousy, of course. No. He just felt left out and that was stupid.

"Now you're human," Giles finished, letting his hand drop to his side. He glanced at Xander, erasing that uncomfortable feeling of exclusion, because his voice warmed when he was talking to Xander. "Did I ever mention how much I detest prophecies?"

"Maybe once or twice," Xander said, grinning because it had been thirty or forty times that at least. He turned his attention back to Spike. "So _why_ are you here?"

"Angel couldn't stand the sight of me," Spike said. "Which suited me just fine, because wherever he is is pretty much the last place on earth _I_ want to be." He took another long drag on his cigarette. "He figured an ex-vampire with a soul turned human might be of some interest to Watchers, I s'pose."

"And what was it you were thinking _you'd_ get out of the deal?" Xander asked, because that had to be there in Spike's head somewhere.

Spike gave him an impatient look. "Still the same trusting soul, aren't you? I don't want anything." He pursed his lips. "Place to stay, maybe. Just until I get my head around all this."

Xander felt the stirrings of pity. It was hard to imagine how it must feel, going from being immortal and close to invulnerable to being human. He supposed it could be seen as a reward, but it wasn't going to be all fun and games adjusting.

"And if you're giving this useless git houseroom, you're not going to turn down the chance to do the Good Samaritan bit with me, now are you? And I _did_ save the world and your arses with it." Spike flicked some ash in Xander's direction. "Stayed behind and burned so you could all bugger off safely."

Xander went back to hating Spike without any difficulty at all. "I'm not useless," he said. "Wait. Why am I having this argument with you?" He looked to Giles for support.

He got a tired shrug. "Force of habit?" Giles sighed. "And the day was being reasonably well-behaved up until now." He gave Spike's suitcase a jaundiced look. "Oh, I suppose you can stay here tonight, at least, but can we move this discussion out of the hallway?" Giles led the way into the living room with Xander following, feeling a little indignant that Giles hadn't pointed out to Spike that on a useless scale, he ranked somewhere below the appendix.

Giles pointed at a chair. "Spike. Sit. Don't touch anything."

That seemed pretty unlikely, but surprisingly, Spike did sit down.

"So what happened?" Xander asked. "You just woke up one morning and realized you had a pulse?"

Spike looked around, leaned forward and put his cigarette out in a tea cup that Giles had left there the night before. Giles made a sound of disgust. "Happened that night. Things went all apocalypsy; we tried to kill all the members of the Black Thorn. You heard about that, yeah?" He was looking at Giles.

Giles nodded. "We did."

"Wesley, Charley, we lost them both. Me and Blue and Angel, though... took down a dragon and... thousands, maybe, between the three of us. Felt like it, at any rate." Spike's voice and eyes made it clear that he was far away. "Guess I saved Angel. He says it, so it must be true, right? Not as if he'd make something like that up. Anyway... he says I got dusted, and then next thing he knew I was lying there whole and breathing. Guess the prophecy wasn't so much undone as changed." He stood up, shifting his weight. "Just spent twelve hours on a plane. Think I've been doing enough sitting."

Now _that_ was something Xander could relate to. His journey back from Africa had spread over two nightmarish days of missed connections and canceled flights, with him clinging stubbornly to his single suitcase for thousands of miles and then managing to leave it behind in the taxi that took him from Heathrow to this house. Jet lag was hell.

Giles must've seen the signs of exhaustion on Spike's face, too, because a lot of the hostility had drained from his voice when he spoke. "We heard about Wesley and Gunn. No details; just that they'd been killed. I'm very sorry." The sadness dragging at his voice made the simple words convey all the grief Xander had seen first-hand when they'd got the news. Seen and shared. They hadn't known Gunn, but Wes was one of them when it came down to it, and a heroic death didn't have the glamour it used to.

"We were about to eat," Giles continued.

Xander bit his lip. _No, we were about to have sex,_ he thought _and I still want to, and damn, that's not going to happen half as much as it used to with Spike around._

"Would you like to join us?"

The part of the conversation that had happened only in his own head had been so real that Xander actually twitched at that, but Spike just nodded and Xander realized they were talking about dinner.

He had to clean off one of the two kitchen chairs they never used except for piling up papers and stuff so that there'd be somewhere for Spike to sit. Once he had, Spike dropped down into the chair with a tired and maybe grateful grin that disarmed Xander, leaving him confused. An appreciative, thoughtful Spike wasn't something he was used to.

On the other hand, maybe Spike was trying to trick him into lowering his defenses. Yeah, that had to be it. Giles dished up the shepherd's pie and Xander got three beers out of the cupboard. He'd adjusted to the whole warm beer thing pretty quickly. Beer, as far as he was concerned, was beer.

He was three bites into his meal when he realized that Giles wasn't eating, but was watching Spike. Xander had seen Spike eat before, but never often, and the odd time he'd seen him drink blood he'd done his best to repress the memory because, quite honestly, it was gross.

Spike using a knife and fork, both at the same time, just like Giles did and Xander didn't, eating with a careful but somehow automatic tidiness, was new.

"Does it -- do you miss your, ah, previous diet?" Giles asked curiously. "Any cravings?"

Spike shook his head, swallowing and looking at both of them as if he was just then aware of the fact that he was being watched. "M'not a bloody sideshow," he muttered irritatedly.

"It's just... weird," Xander said. "It'd be like if I suddenly jumped up and started, I don't know, ballet dancing or something."

"I'm _eating_ ," Spike said. "Not dancing."

"I'm sorry," Giles said. "It's just that from an academic point of view, this _is_ rather fascinating." Spike glared at him, and Giles cleared his throat and picked up his beer. "But not perhaps to you. Fair enough."

Xander concentrated on eating his own food and tried not to look at Spike at all, which was strangely harder than he would have thought it would be. He kept looking over at Giles, too, watching Giles watch Spike and try not to. And Spike kept looking up at both of them, surly now that he felt on display. Xander couldn't really blame him for that; he'd felt the same way right after he'd lost his eye, like he was really interesting all of a sudden; a freak show. There'd been times he'd wanted to just shout at people to stop _staring_ at him.

"So," he tried. "Angel just kicked you out, huh?"

"Yeah," Spike said, leaning back in his chair and drinking more beer. "Don't get me wrong, I was more'n happy to go. Not like the two of us have ever got along."

"Especially now," Giles said shrewdly, going right to the heart of it. For a man who could take five minutes asking Xander how he liked his tea, he was still capable of a brevity that was as disconcerting as it was insightful. "When, for possibly the first time in your relationship, you've achieved something he has not. _Can_ not." Giles' mouth twisted. "I never thought I'd feel pity for him, given our dealings with each other, but I do now." He gave Spike a sharp glance. "And I've no doubt that the urge to gloat, just a little, was irresistible, am I right?"

"You should have seen his face," Spike said, with a little smile. He pushed his chair back, his thighs falling to the sides in a way that Xander found disturbing in a way he couldn't quite put his finger on. "He'd never admit it, of course, but he was furious. And he'd be talking through his clenched teeth, trying to pretend like it didn't bother him."

Xander couldn't deny that he sort of got a kick out of the thought of Angel being all mad that Spike had got the prophecy that had been meant for him. "Did he get that thing where his lip twitches?"

"Yeah," Spike agreed, finishing his beer and yawning. Xander didn't think he'd ever seen Spike yawn. "Totally worth the first time I got puking drunk just to see the look on his face."

That fascinated look crossed Giles' face again, as if he was about to ask Spike all kinds of stuff Xander really didn't want to discuss when he was eating, but Spike yawned again and gave Giles a hopeful glance.

"Any chance of a shower? I'd say bath, but I'd likely fall asleep in it, and I wouldn't want to drown." He smiled with his tongue curled behind his top teeth, a gesture as familiar as it was unsettling. "Me stretched out in your tub; bring back memories, does it, Giles?"

"It does," Giles replied, his eyes narrowing. "All of them the kind that make me want to emphasize how temporary this arrangement is. But by all means have a shower. I'll sort you out some bedding; there's a sofa bed in my study down here that you can use."

Xander showed Spike where the downstairs bathroom was -- there was a shower in there, although he and Giles never used it. He wasn't even a hundred percent sure it worked. Not like he was going to tell Spike that, though. "I don't know if there are any towels in here," he said, opening the closet. "Oh, yeah, here." He put two on the edge of the sink and left quickly.

Giles came downstairs with some sheets and the pillows that had been on the bed in the second bedroom upstairs, the bed Xander had used when he'd first come back to London. It was still 'his' room technically, even though he hadn't slept there in more than six months and all his clothes were in the master bedroom.

"I can't believe Spike's not a vampire anymore," Xander said, as they started to wrestle the sofa into a bed.

"I can believe he's human far more readily than I can believe I told him he could stay," Giles said ruefully. "I'm sorry, Xander; this is your home, too, and I should've consulted with you first. If it's any consolation, I can't see him staying here long."

He picked up the bedding and began to spread it out over the opened-out sofa.

Xander appreciated the apology. "What were we going to do, throw him out on the street?" He grinned a little bit. "I mean, I won't deny the idea is tempting." Leaning over, he grabbed the near end of the sheet Giles was spreading out and helped to settle it on the mattress, which he had to admit looked pretty thin. That made him realize something. "You didn't want him upstairs?"

Giles looked startled. "That's your room."

"So that's my room, and our room is our room?" Xander wanted clarification.

"When you put it that way, I suppose it does sound odd, but I can assure you I think of the room we sleep in as our bedroom, not mine, if that's what you mean." Giles shrugged, dropping two pillows at one end of the bed. "I just still think of the spare room as yours as well, and therefore not somewhere I'd automatically put a guest." He grinned. "Besides, do you _really_ want Spike next door to us?"

"There is no way I can say 'no' emphatically enough," Xander said, just as Spike, still in the shower if the running water had anything to say about it, started to sing. Loudly.

Giles winced. "He used to do that when he was staying with me. And I'm going to make it quite clear tomorrow that he's not to smoke in the house while he's here. Lay down some ground rules. He can be very disruptive, as you know, and I'm sure that hasn't changed."

Giles sounded scarily like a parent right then. Or maybe the scary part was that Xander agreed with him. Wasn't he still young enough to be rebelling? Apparently not.

"I'm less worried about secondhand smoke than I am that he might burn the house down," Xander agreed, as Spike's voice got even louder. "We're not seriously going to let him stay here, are we? I mean, can't the Council put him up somewhere? Aren't you going to want to, I don't know, do blood tests and stuff? Make sure he's really human?"

"He's definitely not a vampire," Giles said thoughtfully. "His skin's warm and he's got a heartbeat... I'll see what I can find out about this prophecy he mentioned. If necessary, we'll call Angel for confirmation, although I'd rather not get involved with him. Our recent dealings haven't been exactly amicable."

The shower stopped running and Spike fell silent, too. Giles stepped away from the couch and gave Xander a brief hug. "He'll be gone soon, I'm sure, but until then -- well, he _has_ got a point. We owe him something for what he did in Sunnydale." He looked a little self-conscious. "And I confess to being curious about how he's coping with this. He's remarkably resilient, but he's gone through some bewildering changes in the last two years."

"I guess," Xander said, but he gave Giles a smile to let him know that it was the situation he wasn't thrilled with, not Giles. Why couldn't Spike have just stayed in L.A.? It didn't even make sense that he'd hung around for years in California, sun central, as a vampire, but now that he was human and could actually enjoy the sun, he'd come back to England where it rained more often than not.

Stupid vampire. Only not, and that was going to take some time to get used to.

There was the sound of the bathroom door opening, and Spike appeared in the doorway to the study wearing nothing but a towel. His hair was slicked back, making his face look even thinner than usual, his cheekbones standing out in sharp relief. He ran a hand down along his damp chest, creating a bead of water that took a slow, meandering slide southward over his abdomen. "Take a picture, Harris," Spike said, but he sounded more tired than snarky. "Lasts longer."

*****

Spike wasn't sure why they were both staring at him all the time; he was human, yeah, but he hadn't grown another head, and he didn't look any different. And yeah, he knew what he'd looked like before. No reflection didn't mean he hadn't seen himself on the security tapes at Wolfram & Hart or had photographs taken. When he stared into a mirror, he saw himself staring back. Spike. William the Bloody. Useless, destiny-grabbing waste of space. Take your pick.

None of them seemed to fit him now. He was new. New body, nearly-new soul, new life.

Short, measured-in-decades-not-centuries new life, but even so.

Didn't feel that way, though. He still felt connected to all he'd been and done. Connected and distanced at the same time, so that being around Angel was unbearable, because when Angel looked at him all he saw was what Spike had been, not what he'd become.

Angel hadn't been about to give him a chance to prove he'd changed, and Angel sure as hell wasn't going to be someone who cared when Spike got belly-ache from eating too much junk food after forgetting to eat for hours, or someone who'd listen and smile when Spike tried to explain what spicy noodles _really_ tasted like. Spike still hadn't forgotten the look on Angel's face when he'd walked in and found Spike trying to get the lid off a jar. It'd felt bloody welded on, it was that tight, and the arrogant bastard had taken it from him in silence, not even smirking, and opened it using a thumb and one finger.

Angel'd smirked when Spike punched him, though. Smirked and swayed out of the way of the next one -- and the one after that -- moving with lazy speed, arms crossed over his chest...

And now Spike was here with these two, and it was more of the same. Staring at him as if he was a freak.

He spotted his suitcase in the corner. He supposed he should brush his teeth now before they rotted and fell out or something, but he was too tired to care. Let them.

Spike dropped the towel, kicking it out of the way, and walked past Giles and Xander to the bed.

Stupid buggers were still gawping at him.

Typical.

"Maybe this is something no one thought to tell you," Harris said, his eyes darting away when Spike looked at him. Well, eye. It was obvious he'd got himself a glass one, and Spike couldn't help but think there was some kind of vulnerability there just _screaming_ out to be exploited. "But people... _regular_ people, humans, which is a group you apparently newly belong to, don't just walk around with no clothes on."

Spike smirked and crouched down facing them, opening his suitcase and digging around slowly in search of the soft brushed cotton trousers he knew were in there somewhere. He took his time, aware that he was making them uncomfortable and liking it. "Might be human, but I'm never gonna be 'regular,'" he said, standing up and pulling on the trousers before giving his balls a good scratch.

"I think that's a given," Giles said, sounding more amused than Spike had expected. Took a lot to make Giles lose it, although Spike knew a couple of sure-fire ways, starting with folding down corners on pages and definitely involving mugs of blood left unwashed and forgotten for days. He was fairly sure Giles would get just as pissy about abandoned coffee mugs, so that would still work.

Not that Harris was much better from what he remembered. Lad had lived like a slob in the basement, and from what Spike had seen later it didn't seem like Anya had trained him out of it. What he'd seen of the house looked tidy enough; lived-in, but tidy -- but he'd bet his last dollar -- pound -- that Harris' room was a pig sty.

"If there's nothing else you need, we'll leave you to get some sleep," Giles said. "Help yourself to breakfast if you find yourself waking up at some ungodly hour; I know it can be hard to adjust to the time difference at first."

He'd help himself to anything that suited him, pretty much, not that Spike would say that out loud. Oh, he wouldn't steal anything outright, probably -- the soul saw to that -- but he was a guest, wasn't he?

A bloody exhausted guest. Not that he hadn't got tired as a vampire, but the differences kept surprising him. He'd thought food still tasted fine as a vamp, but the first thing he'd eaten as a human, a bag of potato chips, had been something close to a religious experience. He'd had a bunch of stuff delivered right after, on Angel's tab, of course, and eaten the lot of it to the point where he'd felt ill, but he just hadn't been able to stop himself.

Giles and Harris buggered off to the kitchen, closing the door behind them, and Spike crawled into bed, pulling the covers up over him and burying his face in the pillows. He fell into a deep, almost drugged sleep immediately, the sound of his own breathing comforting and disturbing at the same time.

When he woke, it was pitch-black -- and he still wasn't used to darkness. Nothing was dark when you were a vampire. He'd been in places where he couldn't see much, but he could always see _something_. This moment of disorientation and thick, palpable black pressing down on him always made his heart leap and thud painfully. Which didn't help to calm him down either.

Not like he was going to go out and buy a sodding nightlight, though, was it?

Spike rolled onto his back and glanced around, vague shapes starting to appear as his eyes adjusted. England. Giles' house. Right. Desk over there, with a computer on -- had to be Harris' and he probably drove Giles mad playing games on it. Bookshelves everywhere -- no change there.

A creak and then another had him staring up at the ceiling. Sounded as if he was under one of their bedrooms and they were toddling off to bed. He wondered who it was making all the racket. They both snored sometimes, if memory served, but Xander was the one who thrashed around most. God, he hoped he was under Giles' room, or he'd never get back to sleep.

For a minute or so, there was silence, so Spike closed his eyes again, but then he heard another creak and what might have been a moan. He frowned. Was Giles sick? Another moan, louder, this one sounding more like Harris, and then the creaks found a rhythm that Spike would have recognized anywhere.

He was so surprised that, at first, his brain tried to come up with other explanations. A whore's car had broken down outside and she'd knocked on their door then offered to have sex with Harris as a way of saying thanks for their help. Harris was jerking off alone, or maybe shagging some kind of blow up doll on his squeaky bed. There had to be a reasonable explanation for what Spike was hearing.

The sounds increased -- more moaning, two men's voices -- and Spike couldn't deny it anymore. Giles and Harris were shagging. Each other. Spike's hand was resting over his own erect cock, and when Giles groaned and the head of the bed hit the wall with a muffled thud, Spike shrugged and slid his hand under the waistband of his trousers. Might as well have a wank, since they were putting on a show.

And that was all he had been doing lately. Oh, he'd gone out and got laid, first chance he'd got, but it'd been some stupid tart he'd picked up in a bar who'd giggled more than Harmony, which he hadn't thought was possible, and it'd been less fun than he'd expected.

She'd thought the same, if her sudden silence afterwards was anything to go by, and he'd left without bothering to explain that no, he didn't usually shoot his load in under a minute, but this was the first time he'd fucked anyone as a human -- _ever_ \-- because that really wouldn't have gone down well.

But his hand, his dick; they were old friends, human, vampire, souled or not, and the way his cock was aching and hard against his palm it was appreciating the background music as much as he was.

He didn't give a toss what had got those two in bed with each other -- desperation, most likely, because no one else would have them -- but he had to admit he was getting off on the idea, if only because it was so very fucking wrong and that still appealed to him.

Harris had lost weight since Spike had seen him last, and put on some muscle. The T-shirt he'd been wearing, short-sleeved and tight enough to cling, had shown it off, too. Good enough to eat.

Spike shuddered, pumping his cock with fast, hard jerks thinking about Giles doing just that as Harris moaned and whimpered, just like he was doing now. God, he could hear everything! Inconsiderate gits.

Not that he was complaining, but they weren't even trying to keep quiet.

"Xander -- God, yes - _Xander_ -"

He hadn't known Giles could sound like that. Husky. Desperate. Thud, thud, fucking _thud_. Christ, they were going at it like bunnies on crack.

"Fuck, yeah," Spike muttered, his fist moving faster, the slick sound of his foreskin moving over the head of his cock making his balls tighten up. Above him, the space between dull thuds had stretched out, but the sounds themselves were louder, like Giles was really giving it to Harris, deep, hard thrusts. He heard a muffled cry that might have been Harris then Giles' answering groan, all creaking and thumping sounds stopping. Spike could picture the look on Giles' face as he came, emptying himself into Harris' body, imagined that body tightening around his own cock. Spike didn't try to muffle his own cry when he came, letting the hoarse shout escape him as his cock throbbed in his hand, surprising him with the intensity of it. In the room above him, there was a moment of utter silence.

Then someone -- had to be Giles -- began to laugh softly, and there was a hissed babble of words from Harris that died away as if Giles had kissed him to shut him up, which was something Spike had never tried, because it was more entertaining to wind him up than soothe him, but which seemed to be working.

He lay back, messy and relaxed, enjoying the afterglow, and listened to them move around, the short rush of water in a basin, flush of a toilet -- and then they settled back down and that was that.

Spike stripped off the trousers he was wearing and used them to dry his hand and stomach before dropping them onto the floor. He preferred sleeping naked anyway, even if it did seem to bother Harris for some reason.

Harris, who'd stared at him when he'd walked in from the shower, dark eyes wide.

Spike was grinning when he fell asleep. Lad could stare all he wanted as long as he wasn't thinking 'freak' when he did it.

Sunshine was pouring into the room through the one small window when Spike woke up again. He remembered who he was, yawned, stretched, and sat up, listening to the sounds of Harris and Giles talking in the kitchen. They'd have to go to work today, presumably, which he hoped meant he'd be able to do a little bit of snooping around, figuring out what they'd been up these past months. In the meantime, he thought he'd have a bit of fun. He pulled on a clean pair of trousers and briefly considered going out bare-chested just to see if he could get a rise out of Harris -- phrase with a whole new meaning, that -- but decided it was too cold. Another thing he could do once they'd gone off for the day -- find the thermostat and turn up the heat.

In his stocking feet, Spike padded out to the kitchen, where Giles was making toast and Harris was pouring coffee. "Quite the domestic pair, aren't you?" he asked. "Who's the missus?"

Harris gave him a look that was a little bit more irritated than Spike had been expecting. "You're in our house," he said bluntly. "You don't get to make cracks like that."

"Not if you want to stay in it, anyway," Giles said without turning around. "Good morning, Spike. Sleep well?"

The toast popped up, and Giles added it to a stack keeping warm under a napkin in a basket. He carried it over and put it down on the table next to butter, marmalade and –

"Is that homemade raspberry jam?" Spike asked, passing up the chance to get in a dig about the noises in the night. He sat down and flipped a piece of toast onto his plate -- well, a plate anyway. Might as well be his. He was company, wasn't he? -- and slathered it thickly with butter and jam. "God, it's been years since I had this."

He bit into the toast, the taste of the jam bursting across his tongue, fresh and sweet, and yeah, he might have moaned a little. He hadn't been able to _really_ taste his food in over a hundred years, so he figured he was entitled.

Harris set a cup of coffee down at Spike's elbow, hard enough that a little bit sloshed out onto the table. "So how long are we going to have the pleasure of your company?" Xander asked.

Spike looked up at him. "Trying to kick me out?"

"Actually, yeah." Harris sat down.

"Three's a crowd, eh? Don't worry; I can turn a blind eye as well as you can, Harris."

Harris flinched, not enough to be noticeable unless you were looking, but Spike was looking. Looking at the flush rising up under his skin, the way his lips tightened and thinned... and then he was looking at the table, because Giles' hand had closed around the back of his neck and forced his head down.

"Hey! Get off!" Spike protested.

"Then behave."

Giles let go of him, with a dismissive smack across the back of his head that stung his pride as much as anything, and sat down. "If we're done with the pleasantries, I suggest we get a move on. I need to be at work soon. Spike, I'm obviously going to be looking into this prophecy of yours, but I don't think I want your all-too-familiar face at the Council headquarters just yet. You can spend the day with Xander."

Spike and Harris looked up in horror at the same time. "What?" they both said.

"You heard me," Giles said, sipping at his coffee implacably.

"Oh, no," Harris said. "Look, Giles, it's one thing to have him staying here, but there's no way he's coming to work with me. He'll probably burn the place down!"

"I fail to see how that's any worse than what he might do if we leave him here alone," Giles said, looking at Harris.

The most frustrating thing was that Spike really _didn't_ have anyplace else to go. He had no money, and it wasn't like he could just take whatever he needed from the corner shop and walk away without needing to worry about someone calling the cops or, worse, pulling out a gun and shooting him.

"Do I have to?" Harris asked.

"What are you, five?" Spike said, disgusted by the whiny tone in Harris' voice and still stinging from Giles' reprimand. "Didn't know you were such a pervert, Giles."

Giles took one more sip of his coffee, and then set it down. "Get out."

"What?" Spike blinked at him. Giles sounded bored, not angry, but he'd got a look about him that was making the skin crawl on the back of Spike's neck, the way it did just before a fight started, the way it did when he was walking along and something was stalking him, two steps back in the bushes.

"You heard me. Get your things and get out. Go crawling back to Angel, or step under a bus. I really don't care. I don't want you here, and I fail to see why we should have to endure your pathetic attempts to prove you're still capable of inflicting damage on others." Giles got up and went to stand behind Harris' chair, resting his hand on the boy's shoulder for a moment, and then nodding at the door. " _Out_."

Fuck.

Part of Spike was tempted to just do as Giles said, to step out the front door with his suitcase and not look back. Then he remembered all the things he needed now, _really_ needed, like food and a place to live, and he backed down. A little. "Look, it's fine. I'll go to work with Harris. No worries."

"That's no longer an option you have, I'm afraid," Giles said.

Harris was staring at Spike as if he was working out the most painful place to punch him, and Giles was looking as if he already knew and was about two seconds away from demonstrating.

"I'm sorry," Spike said.

He was close to wishing he'd stayed dust, he really was. Neither of them reacted. He'd just _groveled_ and they didn't care.

"Look, I said I was fucking sorry!" He closed his eyes to shut out the sight of Harris starting to smirk and took a deep breath before opening them again. "You don't pop back into life wearing Armani and clutching a platinum card, you know. Try stark-naked and penniless, because when I got back to my place three days later, it'd been trashed and everything I owned was gone. Angel's still got the bank account, Angel's still got enough to get by with -- me, I'm skint." He rubbed his finger through a smear of jam on the table. "Bastard bought my plane ticket and gave me enough to cover the cab fare here. I don't have anything left. Fake ID, birth certificate, passport, yeah... needed them to get in here, and he arranged that, but all the rest of it I don't have. I don't exist. I'm not in the fucking _system_."

His voice was getting louder now, and they were staring at him again. He stood up and realized he was shaking. "You want to throw me out because I've still got a big mouth? Go ahead. I'm getting used to it. But don't fool yourself I've got a nice, bright future out there waiting for me. I've got _nothing_. I've got no one." He managed a sneer. "Thanks for the warm welcome to the human race. Appreciate it."

Spike actually got as far as the doorway before Harris' voice stopped him. "No, wait," Harris said. Then, softer, to Giles, "We can't just throw him out."

"We most certainly can," Giles said, as Spike turned around to hear the verdict. "He's behaving like a spoilt child, and I won't tolerate it. Not when it's directed at you."

"He said he was sorry," Harris pointed out. "I mean, don't get me wrong, it's not that I want him _here._ But just kicking him out when he doesn't have anywhere to go, that's not right, either." The conflict was clear on Harris' face, the bloody do-gooder at war with his instincts which, very rightly, told him that Spike didn't like him much and probably never would.

Giles didn't look conflicted exactly, but he hesitated and glanced between Spike, who was trying to look pitiful and not needing to try all that hard, and Harris, who was probably secretly hoping Giles would do his dirty work for him and insist that Spike leave.

"Oh, very well," Giles snapped at last, walking over to the doorway. "He can stay." He gave Spike an unfriendly look as he passed him. "Temporarily. If you behave. Are we clear on that point?"

Spike nodded. "Thanks," he said to Harris, grudgingly.

"You can thank me by staying out of my way and finding someplace else to live as soon as possible," Harris said, but he wasn't looking at Spike with seething hatred anymore, so that was something.

*****

Spike watched Xander open up his shop, noting the proprietary look he gave the place as he walked in. Xander turned the sign on the door to read 'open' with a casual flick of his wrist and said, "This is it."

It didn't look like much to Spike at first, but when Xander turned on the lights and he saw the carefully positioned pieces of wooden furniture, placed so that the spotlights overhead picked out the glossy sheen of the wood grain or an intricate piece of carving, he gave it a silent, grudging approval. Xander had carved too many stakes for Spike to feel comfortable about complimenting him on his woodworking skills, though.

He glanced around, spotting a door behind the counter that he guessed led to the workshop.

"Nice place," he said, just to prove he could be polite if he wanted to be. "So do you have someone out here dealing with the customers while you whittle away in the back then?"

"There aren't that many customers," Xander said. "If there are, I just stop what I'm doing. Or sometimes I've got something I can do out here -- polishing, for one." He looked at Spike thoughtfully. "That's something you could do, maybe."

Spike tried to sound neutral. "Polish the furniture? How long's that really gonna take?"

"Oh, don't worry, there's plenty of other stuff, too," Xander said. He went behind the counter and opened the door to the back. "Come on." Spike followed, only to be handed a broom the minute he walked through the doorway. "Here you go," Xander said cheerfully, pointing to the thick layers of sawdust on the floor. "There's a dustpan and a trash bin in the corner."

Polite left the building. "I don't know what Giles had in mind when he said we had to spend the day joined at the hip, but somehow I don't see me cleaning up after you in this life _or_ the next, okay?" Spike cleared his throat as Xander started to frown. "No offense. I just -" He stuck out his hand, trying to get Xander to take back the broom. "Human, yes, skivvy, no."

Xander, surprisingly, seemed to understand. "Look, I sweep up after me all the time. I also clean the bathroom. It's only stupid, meaningless work if _you_ decide it is." He gestured around at tools Spike couldn't even begin to guess the names of. "Besides, what else are you going to do, start making armoires?"

"No, but –" Spike rolled his eyes, feeling depression settle over him like the dust on every surface. And this was what Angel had wanted back? This tedium interrupted by boredom? He was welcome to it. "Look, I get paid, right? Because I'm not doing this for nothing." He decided that needed rephrasing as well, judging by Xander's sharp intake of breath. "I want to pay my way," he said virtuously. Yeah, that sounded better. "Not going to sponge off you two. So I need a job."

For a minute Xander just looked at him, then he nodded. "Yeah, okay. But only if you're actually helpful. No sitting around on your ass all day complaining that you're bored, and then expecting a paycheck."

As it turned out, Xander was able to find all sorts of things for Spike to do, most of them just as boring as Spike had feared, but he managed to make it through the first part of the day by reminding himself that this was a _job_ , that he was getting _paid,_ and that the first thing he was going to do with his money was go out and get stinking drunk.

"So, is it weird?" Xander asked, looking up from whatever he was doing to a chair as Spike sorted a pile of wood scraps into two other piles. "You know, the whole breathing, eating, bleeding thing?"

"Don't know about the bleeding yet, but I don't see that being much different," Spike replied. "The rest of it -- yeah. Takes a bit of getting used to. It's worse when I think about it." He tossed a useable-sized chunk onto the left-hand pile and straightened up. "I nearly passed out early on because I started to try to breathe instead of just letting it happen." He gave a short laugh. "Angel thought that was bloody hysterical. Go on: you can have a laugh too if you like."

Again, Xander surprised him, not even looking up from his work and just offering, "Nah. I almost fell down a couple of flights of stairs right after the eye thing -- I'm not sure why. I mean, the doctor said it wouldn't throw off my depth perception by that much, but I guess it was enough."

"Shouldn't have said that earlier," Spike said, feeling a tiny pang of shame. "About turning a blind eye. Won't say sorry, though, because I'm making a rule about only saying that once a day." He picked up another piece of wood and turned it in his hand, studying the grain. "What made you get rid of the patch then?"

"Giles, mostly." Xander said it casually, but it was the sort of thing that had a lot of power behind it. Spike was good at that -- ferreting out the important bits of the conversation and holding onto them. Never knew when you might be in need of some ammunition. "He thought it'd be better for me, I don't know, looking more normal. Blending in." He shrugged with one shoulder, glancing up at Spike. "He was right. He usually is."

"Can't say as I agree with that," Spike said a little dryly. "Or have you forgotten him trying to get me staked not so long ago? And blending in is what you do when you're weak." He ran his finger around a knot in the wood, deep enough to be a flaw. "Never saw me trying to be one of the crowd, did you?"

"Oh yeah? So that whole summer when Buffy was dead, you were just hanging out with us because you thought we were so cool?" Xander glanced up from what he was doing, his gaze knowing. Made Spike want to smack him.

"I was keeping an eye on you lot," Spike said sharply. "With the Slayer gone and nothing but that bloody robot in between you and the monsters -- yeah, you'd have been dead inside a month without me." He slammed the wood down on top of the discard pile hard enough to send the stacked pieces flying. "You _needed_ me," he said, wanting it to be true now as much as he had back then.

"I'm not saying we didn't," Xander said, putting down one tool and picking up a smaller one. "I'm just saying that maybe you needed us, too."

Spike let his silence answer that one. Why bother trying to lie, and why put himself through the humiliation of agreeing with what they both knew was true? "Never mind the history lesson," he said, shoving the scattered pieces of wood together again. "I'm more interested in what's going on now. You and Giles, for one thing. Have to say I didn't see that one coming." He glanced over at Xander, trying to gauge his expression. "Been going on long then, you and him?"

Xander didn't look up from what he was doing, but he answered easily enough, though Spike thought he could hear a tension underneath it all. "A while. I was just supposed to stay with him for a few days when I got back from Africa, but then... you know. Stuff happened."

Spike couldn't help grinning. "Stuff. Yeah. That's one way of putting it, I suppose. What, you tripped one day and his bed just happened to break your fall?" He shook his head. "Doesn't sound likely. And if you don't mind me saying so, it doesn't look good either, old Giles taking advantage of you like that."

"Please. Like I'd really believe you were worried about me being taken advantage of." Xander stood and Spike looked up at him in alarm, but Xander wasn't even looking in his direction, just moving to get some other thing that Spike didn't know the name of. "And he's not old. He's younger than you."

"Not anymore," Spike said smugly. "Got a birth certificate to prove it." He glanced over at where Xander had been working and tutted when he saw the fresh layer of shavings on the floor. "I just swept that bit an hour ago! Do you mind? Put down some bloody paper or something."

Xander snorted. "It'd take more time to put down paper than it will to sweep. Don't worry, it won't kill you." He settled back down to his work. "Speaking of which, you _are_ aware what cigarette smoke does to human lungs, right?"

"Mine are a month old; think I'm safe for a while yet," Spike said with genuine indifference. It'd been a shock taking that first drag and coughing like a twelve-year old, but it hadn't taken him long to get used to smoking again, and it wasn't something he planned to give up. Pleasures of the flesh.... yeah, well now that he was flesh he planned on enjoying them all. "So spare me the lecture, or I'll return the favor and point out that shagging someone with as many miles on the clock as Rupert has might not be the best idea you've ever had." He lifted his eyebrow, unable to resist needling Xander just a little bit more. Call it payback for waking him up like that. "Well? You being all nice and _safe_ , Xander? Hope so."

"That's not the kind of question you ask your boss," Xander pointed out. "But even if it was, it's none of your business." Spike could tell he'd struck a nerve.

"It is when you're going at it like you were last night," Spike said. "You always that loud, or did you get off on having an audience?" He widened his eyes at Xander. "And did you wear him out for the week or am I gonna need earplugs tonight as well?"

Something inside him was screaming at him to shut up, but after weeks of being on the receiving end of Angel's increasingly savage digs it felt good to be the one doing the hurting.

And Xander always did label his buttons so very nice and clearly.

"We thought you were asleep," Xander said, finally pushed over the edge from irritated into angry and not making any effort to hide it. "Look. I know it comes naturally to you to act like an asshole, but I can't work like this. Go out front and, I don't know..." He looked around, got up and went over to grab something off a shelf, then stomped toward Spike and thrust a bottle and a rag into his hands. "Wash the windows. You think you can manage that without breaking anything?"

"Depends on if I care enough to try," Spike said, refusing to take as much as a step backwards. Not for Harris. No fucking way was he backing down from him. "But as I wouldn't put it past you to dock my wages for breakages, I'll see what I can do." He studied the cleaning supplies distastefully, but began to walk towards the door, avoiding a patch of sunlight automatically. Just before he left the room, he turned and grinned at Xander, his bad temper fading a little now he'd got Xander to crack. "Don't feel you two have to keep your hands to yourself just because I'm around though." He squeezed the trigger on the bottle of glass cleaner, sending a fine spray into the air. "Better than cable porn."

" _Go_ ," Xander said sharply, following after Spike. "Clean. Be quiet." And, as soon as Spike had stepped out into the front room, Xander closed the door to the back one in his face.

"Fine," Spike muttered. Then, with enough force that Xander would be able to hear him, "What if I want to be loud? Do I get docked for that, too?" There was no reply.

Spike sighed and went outside, taking advantage of his time in the fresh air to smoke. He did a half-arsed job cleaning the glass, grinning as he noted the streaks left behind when he was done, and then he moved inside and finished the job, going as slowly as humanly possible.

The day dragged by with Xander finding jobs to do that kept him and Spike as far apart as possible, even eating his lunch on his own. Spike counted that as a victory of sorts, but it also meant he was bored. Sitting at the counter reading a week-old paper and waiting for someone to walk in wasn't his idea of fun. Even less fun when no one did. Xander seemed to have plenty of work, but he didn't exactly have people beating down the door to get at his tables and chairs.

About an hour before closing, when Spike was half-asleep in his chair, he heard the chirp of a phone. Wasn't the shop one; that was beside him, so it had to be Xander's cell phone. Spike slipped over to the connecting door and listened in.

Xander sounded relieved when he spoke. "Hi," he said. "Yeah... ha ha, very funny. I hope that was a joke... How do you think?" A longer pause. "Okay, yeah, that pretty much sums it up... Yeah, I know. And I kind of might have said I'd pay him." Spike could imagine the reaction to that one, even if his human senses meant he couldn't actually hear it. "Because it's my business and I get to decide, that's why," Xander said, his voice sharp. He sighed. "I know. I know. Sorry." Even more softly, "Me, too. See you later. Bye."

Spike rolled his eyes. So Giles didn't like the idea of him being on the payroll, did he? And was that Xander getting a bit restive at the end there? Spike didn't feel much sympathy. Teach him to hook up with someone who remembered him as a snot-nosed kid and probably still thought of him that way deep-down.

He pushed open the door and gave Xander a friendly smile, noting that he was looking a bit flushed. "Giles checking up on you, is he? Making sure we're both still alive and kicking?"

"Fuck off," Xander muttered, and then glanced up at Spike when he didn't leave. "What, do you need a hearing aid? Get out of here." He stood up abruptly, digging in his pocket and taking out his wallet, thumbing through the notes and pulling out a few. "Here. Go waste it on whatever you're going to waste it on. I assume you can find your way back to the house on your own."

Taken aback, Spike reached out and took the money, folding it one-handed and tucking it into his back pocket. He'd felt a momentary surge of -- not panic, no; concern, maybe -- at Xander's first words, but it looked as if he hadn't pushed him far enough to get kicked out altogether.

"Right. I'll be off then."

He hesitated, but Xander had already turned his back on him as if he'd ceased to exist.

It took three doubles of whiskey at the first pub he found that wasn't full of old men or suits to dull the resentment that rejection had left behind.

*****

"I hope he shows up before we go to bed," Xander said, slouching further down on the sofa and clicking the button on the remote control again.

"Well, we're hardly about to give him a key, are we?" Giles asked.

Xander shook his head and let his other hand drop onto Giles' thigh, patting it gently. "I know." He'd apologized at least twice for having snapped at Giles on the phone earlier, despite Giles' assurances that it wasn't necessary, and they'd had a peaceful dinner without Spike there to stir up trouble. They were currently indulging in their pre-bed ritual of watching mindless television for half an hour before going upstairs.

Giles captured Xander's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. "I know he broke all records for being obnoxious today, but he's probably still feeling a little disorientated. He'll be less abrasive in a day or two, I'm sure." He considered the likelihood of that for a moment and then sighed. "Or he might get worse, if that's possible. Really, I can't believe he's stupid enough to be this antagonistic when he's got nowhere else to go."

"You can't?" Xander asked, grinning. "I can believe it. In fact, I think it's pretty much par for the course. The more threatened he feels, the more annoying he is." More seriously, he said, "So I think you're right -- he might get less irritating after a couple of days. Although I assume we're still planning to find somewhere else for him to live? Not to mention work."

"God, yes!" Giles said. "For the sake of our sex-life, if nothing else. I really can't say that I want a repeat of last night." He felt irritable just thinking about that. At the time, it'd surprised a laugh out of him, but in retrospect it stopped being at all amusing. The thought of Spike getting off on what Giles was doing with Xander was an unendurable invasion of their privacy. Forcing himself to be practical, he added, "I want him to stay here until I've finished looking into this Shanshu prophecy though; I've got two people researching it, so it shouldn't take long."

Xander was apparently ready to give up on the television, as he shut it off and leaned forward to drop the remote control onto the coffee table. He didn't get up, though, just leaned back again so that their shoulders were touching. "Maybe you can offer them time and a half," he suggested. "You know, to finish sooner."

"Perhaps I could," Giles said, turning slightly and running his hand slowly over Xander's chest. "And perhaps we could take advantage of the fact that we're alone at the moment?"

He didn't wait for Xander to do more than smile before leaning in and kissing him hard, feeling both unexpectedly possessive and in need of reassurance. With an impatience he didn't normally show, he tugged Xander's shirt out of his jeans and slipped his hand underneath it, stroking Xander's stomach and feeling the muscles tighten and shift under his hand.

Xander seemed just as eager as he, returning the kiss and shifting so that he could rub his hand along the length of Giles' sudden erection. "God, yeah," Xander breathed, fingers working at Giles' zip in a way that Giles felt certain was deliberately clumsy. "How long's it been since we had sex on the couch? Gotta be at least a month." His lips were warm and cooperative against Giles', his talented hand finally slipping inside Giles' boxers and touching him where he needed to be touched.

"It feels like a month since you did that," Giles said, hearing his voice roughen with arousal. He wasn't sure that counted as an exaggeration, either. Xander could make him feel a hunger he'd thought lay far behind him. And the couch was only one of the places they'd satisfied that hunger. In fact, he didn't think there was a room in the house they _hadn't_ fucked in by now. Given that he'd long ago decided that a bed was the best place to have sex, no matter how mundane a choice, that was a testament to Xander's effect on him.

He reached down, dealing with Xander's zip quickly, deepening the kiss until Xander's tongue was warm against his. They moved until they were half-lying across the couch, clothes pushed out of the way just enough to allow their hands to reach each other, Giles' leg thrust between Xander's. Lost in the dual sensations of Xander's cock, hard and throbbing in his hand, and what Xander's hand was doing to his own erection, it took Giles a moment to realize that a slow, irregular thudding noise was someone knocking at the door.

He wrenched his mouth away from Xander's and sat up, listening. The thud came again, accompanied by his own name, yelled out at a volume that wasn't going to go down well with the neighbors at all.

"Spike," he said bitterly. "Of all the bloody times to pick to come back!"

Xander struggled to a sitting position beside him, fumbling slowly at putting his clothes to rights, looking every bit as irritable and reluctant as Giles felt. "Figures," Xander muttered, standing and zipping up his trousers. Giles was still tucking himself away, so Xander went, presumably, to let Spike in.

Or at least that was what he hoped Xander had planned, as opposed to something like, for example, opening the door and punching Spike in the face, satisfying as that might be.

The front door slammed, and there was a scuffling sound as if Spike was resisting whatever Xander was doing to him. Which turned out to be pushing him through the door into the living room and forcing him into a wooden chair against the wall. Giles was fully dressed again, but Spike was, judging by the look of him, past noticing anything short of complete nudity anyway.

"Do you know how many houses on this road _don't_ have anyone called Giles living in them?" Spike demanded, his words slurred enough to be verging on incomprehensible. "Knocked and knocked and you weren't behind any of the doors." He drew himself up and fixed Giles with an accusing glare. "You were hiding and that's cheating, Giles. 'Spected better of you. Not playing the game."

"Oh, good Lord," Giles said, staring at Spike with a fascinated disgust. "Three sheets to the wind and he's discovered a sense of honor. Delightful."

"He's really drunk." Xander seemed rather more pleased than the situation called for. He crouched down beside Spike and poked Spike's cheek, then whisked his hand out of the way as Spike swatted at him.

"Leave off!" Spike said. He didn't seem to be focusing his eyes properly, and Giles couldn't help but wonder if Spike had enough sense not to drink himself to death.

Xander poked him again. "I never saw him this drunk in Sunnydale."

"Lots of me you never saw in Sunnydale." Spike appeared to be attempting to leer at Xander, but very nearly fell out of his chair instead, and Xander had to reach out and steady him.

"And let me just emphasize how very, very happy that makes me," Xander said. He stood back up and looked at Giles. "What should we do, just put him to bed and let him sleep it off?"

Giles nodded resignedly. "With a bucket by the bed and a glass of water," he said. "We can try and get some water down him now, but -- no, let's not bother. He's going to wake up feeling terrible no matter what we do, and serve him right."

He walked over to Spike and hooked a hand under his arm. "You get his other arm," he said to Xander.

Between them, they hauled Spike up and started towards the study.

"You can't drink as much as you used to, Spike," Giles told him, although he doubted Spike was listening. "Human bodies can't deal with alcohol as effectively as vampires' can. And I would have thought you'd have learned that by now."

Spike turned his head and gave him a puzzled look. "'M not human, you plonker. I'm Spike." He made what Giles could only assume was an attempt to snarl and ran his tongue over his teeth. "What happened to my fangs? Did you take them? Did you?" He pulled out of their grip and stood there swaying, his fists clenched. "Give them back!"

Xander seemed to be trying not to laugh. "We don't have them," he said, taking half a step back and holding out his hands. "You stole Angel's humanity, or something... remember? Spikey's not a vampire anymore."

Still swaying, Spike looked at Xander and frowned, looking as if he were trying very hard to get his brain to function. Then his expression cleared, only to be replaced a moment later by a look of panic, his face going suddenly very pale.

"Bathroom," Giles said succinctly, having been in a condition not that far removed from Spike's too many times to miss the signs that someone was about to lose a bellyful of expensive -- or not -- drinks.

They got him there just in time and stood in silence watching him throw up into the toilet.

"I'll stay with him while you get the bucket," Giles murmured to Xander. "Probably won't need it after this, but best to be on the safe side."

Xander nodded, wrinkling his nose, and went out.

Giles waited until he was sure Spike had finished, and then reached over his head to flush the toilet.

"Get up," he said, not unkindly. There had been something rather touching about Spike's expression as the reality of his situation dawned on him; an unguarded moment of bewildered loss.

Spike stayed where he was, slumped against the toilet bowl, and Giles sighed. Going to the basin, he ran some cool water over the flannel there and wrung it out. Squatting beside Spike, he cleaned his face, and then rinsed out a slightly dusty glass on the shelf and filled it with water.

"Here," he said, putting the glass to Spike's mouth. "Rinse and spit."

Spike obeyed shakily, taking the glass in a trembling hand and sipping the water, then spitting it out again. This immediately earned him a case of the dry heaves -- apparently there was nothing left to come up -- and Giles sighed and took the glass away again. "Feel terrible," Spike managed to mumble.

Giles debated giving him some aspirin, but decided that the chances of it staying down weren't good. He'd leave some beside Spike's bed with the water.

"I'm sure you do." He studied Spike's face, seeing the strain on it now that Spike wasn't able to hide behind an arrogance that, no matter how abrasive, had to have been assumed rather than real. Spike's skin was clammy, and there were shadows under his bleary, blood-shot eyes. Prompted by pity, Giles patted Spike's shoulder. "You'll be fine. You'll wish you were dead tomorrow, but you don't need me to tell you that it'll pass."

Xander appeared in the doorway, staring down at them, and Giles got to his feet.

"Let's get him to bed," Giles said.

Spike seemed incapable of walking on his own, and they had to half carry him into the bedroom, where Xander had put a bucket by the bed as well as turned down the sheets. As soon as they'd got Spike's jacket and shoes off him, he collapsed onto the mattress, curling up into a miserable ball around a pillow and hiding his face with his arm. "M'dying and nobody cares."

"You're not dying," Xander told him, pulling up the covers over Spike's slight form.

There was a muttered reply that neither of them could understand. Giles frowned. "What?"

Spike groaned and shifted position. "Go away and leave me to die in peace if you can't show proper sympathy," he slurred. Giles didn't think that was what he'd said before, though, and the thought that Spike might actually prefer being dead to living out his life as a human concerned him, little as he might like the man.

"We'll leave you to sleep it off," Giles said, "but tomorrow we'll talk about this." Spike grunted and hunched up his shoulder. "In the afternoon, perhaps," Giles said, wincing as he pictured the hangover Spike was going to wake up to. A new body that hadn't built up a tolerance to any of the hazards of living wasn't an unmixed blessing. It crossed his mind to wonder if Spike would be vulnerable to a dozen illnesses. He wouldn't have been inoculated as a child, after all.

Deciding to get Spike to a doctor at some point for a check-up, Giles left the room with Xander, switching off the light and closing the door quietly.

"Is it soft-hearted of me to admit that I feel kind of bad for him?" Xander asked as they finished their routine of shutting off the lights and checking to see that the front door was locked and went upstairs.

"If it is, it's an emotion I share," Giles admitted, starting to get undressed. "He's so adrift right now that it's hard not to feel sorry for him, even if he is going out of his way to make us hate him." He tossed the last of his clothes onto a chair near the bed. "Idiot," he muttered, reaching for his robe. He wouldn't normally have bothered with it just to go to the bathroom, but with Spike around he had a feeling a lot of his habits were going to change.

"Was Anya like this?" he asked when they were both in bed. "Frightened and angry at becoming human unexpectedly? I know we worked together, but we never really talked about anything personal." He grinned at Xander before reaching out to turn off the bedside lamp. "I tended to discourage that, as she usually ended up talking about you and I found it a little embarrassing, to be honest."

Xander seemed to consider the question before answering. "Yeah, she was. The thing was, she'd just come right out and say it, not pretend that it wasn't happening and only admit it when she was drunk. Um, not that she ever really _got_ drunk." He sighed and resettled himself on his side facing Giles. "So what do we do tomorrow? Make him come to work with me again even though he's miserable?"

"I don't think he'll be up to doing much," Giles said. "And I dread to think what he'll be like with a hangover. I think you've suffered enough. Besides, it just occurred to me that he should really get a medical. He's been given a body, yes, but what state of health is he in?" He turned and put his arm around Xander's waist, resting his hand on Xander's back, and feeling an uncomplicated surge of happiness when Xander moved closer, slipping his arm around Giles. "I've got work I can do here until he's up to leaving the house, and I'll take him to see Dr Simpson. He's used to coping with wounds infected by demon slime; I imagine he'll take a vampire resurrected into a human body in his stride."

"Sounds good," Xander said. "And I swear I'm not only saying that because it gets him out of my hair for the day." His fingers traced idly up and down along Giles' spine. "It's gotta suck, you know? Thinking you're going to live forever -- well, be undead forever -- and then waking up and finding out you're going to die just like everyone else." He sounded a bit sad, Giles thought.

"On the other hand, he _had_ just been turned to dust and might have still been heading for hell, so perhaps he's not that much to be pitied," Giles pointed out. "This is a fresh start for him with, I assume, an unsullied soul." He was in the perfect position to kiss Xander's neck just below his jaw, and he took advantage of that, brushing his lips across the hidden skin. "And I'm willing to make allowances for him, but if he keeps on insinuating that I'm corrupting your innocence I'm going to thump him," he said, pulling back and feeling ridiculously grumpy.

"He's only been insinuating?" Xander asked. "That's probably restrained as far as he's concerned." Giles found himself being pulled on top of Xander, slightly calloused hands running over his skin in the most distracting manner. "Now, can we please stop talking about Spike and focus on what's really important?"

"Finishing what we started on the couch?" Giles murmured, supporting himself on one elbow and leaning over to kiss Xander. "I think I'd class that as being of the highest importance, wouldn't you?"

"Definitely," Xander agreed, nodding. "Hugely important." He slid a hand between them and stroked Giles' cock, his touch so perfect that Giles gasped, and then neither of them said anything for rather a long time.

*****

"Could've asked him to give me an IV to cut this hangover short," Spike muttered as he slid into the passenger seat of Giles' car just after noon the next day. "Since he was already giving me the pincushion treatment."

"Baby," Giles said, glancing over his shoulder, and then taking advantage of a gap in the traffic and pulling out. "Children as young as two -- younger -- have those injections and get no more than a lollipop afterwards." He was slightly hazy on the details, but that sounded about right. And he was damn sure when he was a child the lollipop hadn't been involved at all. "You're in the best of health, the hangover's entirely your own doing, and I suggest you drink that bottle of water he gave you and cancel the pity-party."

Spike grunted noncommittally, but Giles noted that a few moments later he did twist the cap off the bottle of water he was holding and take a sip. "You're getting a real kick out of this, aren't you?" Spike asked.

"Which part?" Giles asked. "Watching you suffer because you drank too much? Hardly. I've been in a similar state too often to cast stones." He gave Spike a sidelong look. "Although I tend to retreat into a dark corner and mope rather than wake up half the neighborhood. Next time -- and I suppose it's too much to hope for that there isn't a next time -- do try and remember we live at number 35."

Spike sighed and looked out the window, falling silent for once. He still looked pale under the odd hint of tan that was his souvenir from his few weeks in L.A. as a human, and the moment before's snark was his first truly normal behavior all day. He'd been strangely subdued the entire morning, going along with Giles' plan without comment, and now his silence left Giles wondering what on earth was going through his head.

By design, not chance, the doctor's office was situated close to the new Council building. Giles pulled into his parking space and switched off the engine before turning to Spike. "I owe you an apology," he said, watching a small spark of interest flare in Spike's eyes.

"Yeah? Told Doc to use the blunt needles, did you?"

Giles shook his head. "No. It's just that -- you came to us for help. You were unexpected and uninvited, but that shouldn't have mattered. If it'd been Buffy or Willow, we'd have made them welcome and really, after what we all went through in Sunnydale, the same should have held good for you." Giles unfastened his seat belt and met Spike's gaze. "You're welcome to stay with us until you decide what you want to do, Spike." Before Spike could answer, he leaned forward a little, resting his arm on the back of his car seat. "But you lose the attitude, you understand me? If you want to talk about what's happened to you, we'll listen, and not unsympathetically either, but I'll not have you going out of your way to upset Xander. He's gone through enough."

Spike looked at him for a long moment, searching his eyes as if waiting, perhaps, for the other shoe to fall. When it didn't, he nodded slowly. "Okay." His voice was rough, and he cleared his throat before continuing. "But if you're expecting me to go on about my feelings, I think you spent a bit too much time in California, mate. I might not know who I am anymore, but I know it's not _that._ "

Giles couldn't help laughing. "I didn't spend _that_ long in California," he said. "Not enough to overcome forty-odd years of being properly reticent when it comes to emotions."

He couldn't help wishing that wasn't the case sometimes, especially where Xander was concerned, but there didn't seem to be much he could do about it.

"I have some work to do," he said. "Why don't you come up to my office?" He smiled. "We lost a lot of our records when Caleb destroyed the original headquarters, but many were in storage facilities designed to withstand more than an explosion. If you like, I could show you your file. There are some gaps in it that you might be able to fill in. Just for the sake of accuracy, of course."

"Not sure I like the idea of a bunch of people I don't know having even _more_ detail about my life," Spike said, but he didn't sound particularly annoyed, and he got out of the car as though he were amicable enough about joining Giles in his office.

"Well, if that doesn't appeal," Giles said, as he led the way through the main reception area and to the stairs, which he made a point of using as his office was on the sixth floor and he rarely had time to exercise, good intentions notwithstanding, "perhaps you'd like to earn some cash by doing a spot of translating? We contract that out sometimes if we get overloaded, and that's certainly the case at the moment, judging by the memos I've been getting from Sarah, who's in charge of that department. You read Greek, I believe? And I daresay when it comes to the demon languages you might have the edge on some of our translators." He paused to catch his breath, making a silent promise to get to the gym in the basement at least once a week. "Pays quite well."

Annoyingly, Spike seemed to be breathing as easily as if he'd just got up from a long nap. "Paid work that doesn't involve sweeping sawdust and cleaning windows? Point me at it."

"Oh," Giles said, a little surprised by Spike's apparent willingness to get started. He'd expected to be told that sitting behind a desk wasn't something Spike was prepared to do, or at best an 'I'll think about it'. "Well, that's good. I'll introduce you to Sarah later and she can give you something to get started on."

They began to climb the stairs again, with Spike soon getting a few steps ahead of Giles. Spike really was in good shape, Giles thought absently, trying not to let the gap between them get too large.

It wasn't until they reached the top that he realized he'd been staring at Spike's backside the whole way.

Spike didn't fail to notice Giles' slightly labored breathing, stopping at the landing and turning around. "I'd think what you get up to with Xander in the evenings'd be enough to keep you in shape," he said fairly pleasantly, leaving Giles to wonder for a moment if he and Xander had been overheard last night as well as the previous one. But no, Spike had been nearly unconscious with drink. It had to be a good guess and nothing more.

Determined not to rise to every taunt of Spike's -- and he hadn't accompanied that one with a leer which meant, for Spike, it ranked more as an observation -- Giles settled for a noncommittal shrug. "I'm sure it helps." He couldn't resist adding, "And it's not an activity confined to the evenings. Or at least it wasn't."

Spike nodded and shrugged a little bit himself, the shoulders of his leather jacket creaking. "Right," he said. "Well, any time the two of you want some privacy, feel free to slip me a tenner and send me out to the pub." It seemed an absurd suggestion considering Spike still hadn't recovered from the previous evening, and when Giles blinked at him in mild astonishment, Spike said, "You don't seriously think one night of a few too many's going to put a halt to my fun, do you?"

"I don't expect you to sign the pledge, no, but I hope you're not planning to waste every penny you earn on beer and cigarettes," Giles snapped, as the hope that Spike was becoming more responsible faded. He pushed open the door at the top of the stairs and walked through it, holding it open for Spike. "And while we're on the subject, if you want to smoke when you're at home, go into the garden, please."

"Brilliant," Spike muttered, following him, but when Giles let the remark pass without comment, simply staring at him coldly, Spike backtracked quickly. "Right. Smoke in the garden. Can do."

They walked into an outer office, with a door leading to Giles' own office on the far wall, and Giles braced himself as his secretary glanced up, her face showing a faint surprise. Miss MacAlister was one of the Council employees who had survived the blast, thanks to a dentist's appointment which had taken her out of the building a scant three minutes before it was destroyed. She had a tendency to treat him as if he was filling in until the real head of the Council returned, and greeted any proposed changes from the way things used to be done with primmed-up lips, but she was mellowing slightly as the weeks went by.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Giles," she said, with an emphasis on 'afternoon' that wasn't lost on him. If he arrived even a minute past nine she made him feel as if he was in disgrace; taking the morning off at a moment's notice hadn't gone down well at all. Her eyes scanned Spike with a detached disapproval. "You've had some phone calls; I've placed the messages on your desk. And I've rearranged your ten o'clock appointment to three, subject to your approval, of course."

"Yes, that's fine, Miss MacAlister," Giles said hastily. Her name was Jean, but somehow he'd never managed to use it. "If you could just bring us two coffees, please. Oh, and get hold of Sarah from Translations for me, would you?" He indicated Spike with a nod of his head. "I've found someone to help her out."

"How nice," Miss MacAlister said, although the look she gave Spike with his slightly slumped shoulders and his heavily bleached hair was doubtful and, it had to admitted, disdainful. Giles could almost feel Spike reacting to her easy dismissal of him and quickly turned toward him, gesturing that he should go ahead into his office and hoping that he'd have the sense to keep his mouth shut until he had.

Fortunately, Spike managed it, waiting until Giles had ushered him inside and closed the door before rolling his eyes. "What the bloody hell is her problem?"

Giles waved him to the visitor's chair, walking around his desk and sitting down. The room was large enough that he didn't bother lowering his voice; Miss MacAlister couldn't hear them unless they shouted, and truthfully he didn't care if she did.

"If it's any consolation, she was equally unfriendly when she met Xander. Still glares at him on the odd occasion he comes here and really isn't happy that he's living with me, although she's stopped short of being as frank about it as you were." Spike crossed one leg over the other, still looking a little ruffled.

Giles went on, oddly anxious to reassure Spike. "Her problem's not with either of you though; she was very fond of my predecessor -- God knows why -- and she knows exactly how much he'd have detested the idea of me taking over. She's too loyal to the Council to be actively hostile, and I do think she's getting used to me, but –" Giles shrugged helplessly and reached for the sheaf of messages placed in the center of his desk.

"If you're the one in charge, can't you sack her?" Spike asked bluntly.

"Sack her?" Giles shook his head, starting to read the messages. "She knows more about how the Council operates than anyone living; she's worked here for nearly 40 years. Getting rid of her because she never lets me forget I'm considered to be a failure as a Watcher, and in her eyes morally unsound, is... well, it's tempting, yes, but she's too valuable. I'd be doing the Council a disservice if I did."

"You're doing yourself a disservice if you let her keep giving you attitude," Spike said, apparently unwilling to let the matter drop. "Bad for morale. Not just yours, but everyone's."

Giles stared at him, feeling slightly lost for words. "Coming from you, Spike, I find that advice rather surprising, although you're probably correct." He gave him a puzzled smile. "Shouldn't you approve of her being a thorn in my side? Or do you resent the competition?"

"You're all right," Spike said grudgingly, surprising Giles further. Then he added, "Assuming you're not hatching another plan to have me killed, that is."

"Ah." They'd never really discussed that, Giles reflected, staring down at his hands, linked and resting on the polished wood. Perhaps they should have, but in that crowded house there hadn't really been the opportunity, and afterwards Spike wasn't there to be apologized to. "I did believe you posed a very real threat, Spike." He glanced up. "And you did. If Robin's actions hadn't allowed you to break through the trigger – " Spike rolled his eyes again, and Giles kept hold of his temper because he couldn't really blame him. "I'm sorry for what I did, because it undermined Buffy's authority. I lost her trust that night and I don't think she's ever entirely forgiven me." He gave Spike a level look. "I was glad you survived though, and not just because it meant you were there to close the Hellmouth. It's up to you if you believe that."

Spike looked away, shifting a bit in his chair as thought the direct scrutiny made him uncomfortable. "She said she loved me," Spike said, still not meeting Giles' eyes. "Right before. I told her I didn't believe her."

It didn't surprise Giles to hear that Buffy had said or felt that particular emotion for Spike, not considering how furious she'd been with Giles when she'd discovered what he'd tried to do. "Did you?" Giles asked.

"'Course not," Spike said. He glanced up at Giles, hands fidgeting in his lap. "How could she? Having a soul didn't make me any less a monster."

"I don't think she thought of you that way by then," Giles told him. "None of us did. You were -- you were mourned, as much as any of those who died." By some of them more than others, but he saw no reason to go into details about that. You couldn't really expect Robin or the new Slayers to feel quite the same way about Spike as the rest of them had. "And when Andrew blurted out that you were alive on his return from L.A. -- which he did almost immediately -- I was... pleased to hear it."

"Wasn't alive though, was I," Spike said, a bit bleakly. His expression reminded Giles of the expressions he'd seen on the faces of people who'd just lost someone or something very dear to them before the realization had really sunk in. Shock.

"I don't know about that," Giles said slowly. Spike's personality had always been forceful enough to make it easy to forget that he was, as Xander would say, the evil undead. "It must have been an improvement on being a ghost, surely?" He frowned, distracted from their conversation by a sudden thought. "Where on earth is that coffee?"

He stabbed his finger at the intercom and said testily, "Miss MacAlister?" just as she opened the door -- without knocking -- and bustled in carrying a tray. Snatching his hand back guiltily, he gave her a weak smile. "Thank you. Did you manage to get hold of Sarah?"

"I can't make coffee and telephone calls at the same time," she said, punctuating her remark with a sniff. Her eyes slid to Spike. "You didn't say how he wanted his so I left it black."

Which would have been fine, had she placed milk and sugar on the tray, Giles reflected.

"'He' likes it black just fine," Spike said, leaning forward and snagging the mug off the tray then sitting back in his chair again, legs spread wide in a way that appeared casual, but which Giles strongly suspected was deliberately provocative. He took a sip of the coffee and ran his tongue along his lower lip, looking directly at Miss MacAlister as he did it.

Suddenly, she seemed to find the atmosphere in the room more uncomfortable than she had. She moved forward to set the tray on Giles' desk, looking everywhere but at Spike.

"Miss MacAlister," Giles said as she turned away.

"Yes?"

Spike's eyes narrowed at her tone, which verged on dismissive, and he gave Giles a look that was less challenging than expectant. Giles turned his head and stared at Miss MacAlister, waiting in silence.

"Yes?" she repeated impatiently.

Giles lifted his eyebrow and continued to wait. A dull flush rose in her cheeks.

"Yes, sir?" she said grudgingly.

"If two simple requests are beyond your capability to execute within a time I deem reasonable, Miss MacAlister, might I suggest you consider taking advantage of the excellent retirement package on offer... rather than my rapidly fading good nature?"

Spike snorted, his eyes sparkling with a wicked amusement, and the flush on Miss MacAlister's face deepened.

"I'm sorry, sir," she said stiffly. "It won't happen again."

"No," Giles said gently. "It won't."

"I'll... I'll go make that phone call right now," Miss MacAlister said, and left the room gratifyingly quickly, although that might just have been to escape the situation for all Giles knew.

He looked over at Spike, who seemed pleased. "There you go," Spike said. "Knew you had it in you."

Giles gave him a self-deprecating smile. "Hardly ranks as one of my most memorable victories, but thank you." He felt his smile fade a little. "God, look at me," he said suddenly. "Feeling a glow of pride at putting my secretary in her place. I used to get that from stopping an apocalypse at the very least." He picked up his coffee and took a sip. "D'you know the last time I fought anything that fought back was the day we closed the Hellmouth? I'm getting soft."

"Wouldn't know it by the sounds I heard coming out of your bedroom the other night," Spike said, smirking over the rim of his mug before taking a sip of coffee.

"Will you stop –" Giles took a deep breath, narrowing his eyes. The malice of Spike's earlier jibes had been missing from this latest one, and the embarrassment Giles had felt had faded. Spike had heard them having sex. Fine. If he was going to stay with them, he probably would again. "Why does it intrigue you so much?" he asked mildly, leaning back and giving Spike a pleasant smile. "My sex-life, that is? You surely didn't think I was incapable? Far from it, especially with a partner like Xander." He allowed a concerned expression to pass over his face. "Or is this a cry for help of some sort? Dear me, Spike, if you were having difficulties performing, you should have mentioned it to the doctor. They have these pills these days, you know." Spike opened his mouth, looking indignant, and Giles added, "Although judging by what _I_ heard from _your_ bedroom the other night, you're getting the hang of it. Or was that a cry of frustration, not release?"

"Nothing wrong with me," Spike said, slouching down in his chair a bit further as if aware that this made it impossible for anyone looking at him's eyes _not_ to zero in on his crotch. "Just didn't figure on the two of you ending up together, s'all."

"Well, we did," Giles said matter-of-factly. "And we're very happy. So get used to it, please. We'll try not to offend your delicate sensibilities, but I can't promise I'll never kiss him when you're in the room and I'm damned if we're moving back into separate bedrooms." He smiled slowly. "And if Xander's sharing my bed I can guarantee there will be... sounds, but we'll do our best to keep you from hearing us."

"Guess it'll be easier now that the vamp hearing's gone," Spike said a bit morosely, picking at the inner seam of his jeans, which Giles realized were the same ones he'd worn the day before. He made a mental note to sort out a way to get some more clothes for Spike if he needed them, although how he'd ask without sending Spike into another unpleasant mood was a mystery.

The phone rang, and Giles picked it up. "Yes?"

"Sarah in Translations says you can send your..." Miss MacAlister fumbled, and then recovered, "The new employee down any time and she'll get him started."

"I'll walk him down myself," Giles said, ignoring the implication that Spike was his -– well, he didn't know what she'd assumed, but it probably wasn't to his credit. Stupid woman. "Thank you."

He hung up and raised his eyebrows. "Sounds as if Sarah's eager to meet you." He ran his eyes over Spike and smiled, enjoying the thought of Sarah's reaction to him, which was going to verge on ecstatic given her workload and her current lack of a boyfriend. "And unlike my secretary, I think once she sees you, that won't change. Pretty girl, and very bright. Once I've introduced you I'll take you over to the wages department and get the paperwork started." He frowned. "You won't have a National Insurance number, will you? Damn."

Spike was looking a little lost. "Don't know. Never done this before, have I?"

"I'll sort it out," Giles said hastily. Leaving Spike to deal with the inevitable red-tape involved in becoming a member of the work force would be cruel and unusual punishment. And the Council was influential enough that it wasn't needed. By the end of the week, his name would be just where it should be on a score of files and records and he'd have all the documentation he needed. "Just give me the documents you have and I'll see to it all."

Getting to his feet, Spike set down his mug and fumbled a small pile of papers and what looked to be a passport from the inside pocket of his jacket. He looked through them with a rather bewildered expression on his face, then shrugged and offered the whole mess to Giles. "You sure you want to do this?"

Giles took them from him and slid them inside an envelope from his desk. "It's no trouble," he said. "And to be honest, it won't be me doing it exactly; I'll pass it on to the right people and make a phone call or two, that's all." He tucked the envelope under his arm and went to the door. As he opened it, he saw Miss MacAlister glance up, her face still set in grim lines. "But if you feel you owe me a favor, I'm sure I can come up with something you can do for me," he said.

The sniff Miss MacAlister gave as he ushered Spike past her, his hand resting briefly on Spike's shoulder, was enough to make him grin all the way to the stairs.

*****

"Xander, would you mind -?"

Xander paused and turned to look at Giles, who was sitting at the kitchen table surrounded by files and forms in triplicate. Giles was holding a pen in his hand and had his finger poised over a calculator. He gave Xander an 'I'm at the limit of my endurance' glare. "I don't want to say, 'Go away, Xander', but Xander, go away?"

"Hey! I've got feelings, you know. Hurt feelings."

"Yes," Giles murmured, with one of those piercing looks that always left Xander feeling... warm somehow. "And I've got work. Interrupted three times in the last five minutes work. Xander, you're pacing, humming and driving me insane. Please stop. I love you, but please leave the room."

Xander tried a sad pout and got nowhere. Giles had that determined look on his face.

"Fine," Xander said. "Maybe I'll go for a walk. Do we need anything from the store? Shop. I mean shop." He still couldn't get that word cemented into his brain.

Giles looked pointedly at his watch and Xander sighed. Right. Merrie Old England shut down for the night a whole lot earlier than he was used to. No stores -- _shops_ open, apart from the corner shop that never seemed to shut, where everything cost twice the price you'd pay in a supermarket.

"If you're feeling a surplus of energy," Giles said, leaning back in his chair and letting his eyes travel over Xander slowly, "I know exactly how we could take care of that..."

Oh, yeah. Xander did, too, and with Spike out at the pub -- again -- they might actually be able to make some noise doing it. He had a fading bruise on his shoulder from where Giles had bitten him three nights ago, trying to hold back an anguished moan as he came, and although Xander hadn't minded that at all, it would've been nice to have heard Giles as well.

He went over to Giles and leaned against the table. "Going to take care of me here? Or upstairs?"

"Ah. No. I didn't mean _that_. Not that I'm not tempted –" Giles ran his hand over Xander's thigh, looking regretful," – but I have to finish these reports. I should've finished them yesterday. No, I meant; why don't you go down to the King's Head and take Spike up on his offer?"

"You're just trying to get rid of me," Xander said.

"Well, yes," Giles admitted. He really _did_ look stressed, Xander realized guiltily, and it would only be to all their benefits if he went down to the pub and dragged Spike home before he got drunk again.

Not that Spike got drunk every time he went to the pub, because he'd gone several times in the past week and always come back acting reasonable. Well, reasonable for Spike. The new and improved version of Spike that Xander was still getting used to had asked earlier if either of them had wanted to go down to the King's Head and hang out, but at the time, Xander had been hoping for some time alone with Giles. He hadn't figured on Giles being so busy.

"Yeah, okay," Xander said. "Might as well go see what he's up to."

"Go and see what Master William is doing, and tell him to stop it," Giles said, sounding as if he was quoting from something. He grinned at Xander's puzzled look. "Never mind. Enjoy yourself, and I'll do my best to get this finished by the time you get back."

*****

The King's Head wasn't as crowded as it was in the middle of the week, but there were enough people to make it difficult to spot Spike at once. Xander bought a pint of lager and started to walk through the groups of people talking over the blare of music from the speakers on the walls. At least it wasn't Karaoke night, he thought.

The pub was one large room, with the bar jutting out into it, dividing it in two to a certain extent. On the far side was a dart board, a few fruit machines and two pool tables and, knowing that Spike enjoyed playing pool, Xander made his way over there.

The music didn't stop, but as he rounded the corner there was a sudden decrease in the general noise as heads turned and conversations came to an abrupt halt, followed by a rush of angry voices.

Fight. Oh, _shit_. Somehow, Xander knew he'd found Spike.

Leaving his pint on the closest table, with an apologetic smile at the couple sitting there, Xander pushed his way through the crowd and saw Spike face-to-face with a tall, bulky teenager whose face was red with beer and anger.

"You don't bloody well come here and con me out of the best part of fifty quid and then laugh at me, you fucking bastard."

"I wasn't laughing," Spike said, the most annoying grin he possessed plastered to his face. "Rude to mock the afflicted, innit? And, Robbie, mate, anyone who plays pool like you has to have something wrong with him."

Robbie, assuming that was his name and not something Spike was calling him to piss him off more, growled and raised his fist, and Xander got there just in time to grab onto Robbie's wrist. Robbie whirled around and Xander let go, taking half a step back and holding up both hands in an 'I come in peace' pose.

"Look, my friend says stupid stuff when he's drinking," Xander said quickly. "Give him a break, okay?"

"He's a bloody con man," Robbie huffed, lowering his fist, but not sounding any less angry.

"Oh, please!" Spike said, sounding genuinely disdainful. "Like I'd _need_ to cheat to –"

"Spike," Xander said through gritted teeth. "Shut up, okay?" He stared at Robbie. Defending Spike didn't come naturally, but he'd played pool with him back in Sunnydale, when Spike was evil, and he'd never noticed Spike doing anything more reprehensible than trying to convince Xander the sleeve of his duster _hadn't_ brushed against the white ball and moved it an inch. Which, okay, was bad, but come to think of it, Spike played well enough after all these decades that he probably wouldn't need to cheat anyway –

"What did he do? Exactly?" Xander asked.

"I won," Spike said in a silky-smooth voice when Robbie flushed and didn't answer. "Every single, sodding time. And it's winner stays on here. So this jer- joker wants to get me off the table so he can play with his girlfriend –" Xander glanced at a girl off to the side who was looking bored as if she was used to her boyfriend starting fights "- and he says, let's bet on it, and when I was racking up he whispers in my shell-like that if I let him win so he looks good in front of his girl, he'll meet me in the gents and give me the money back and slip me a tenner on top."

A ripple of amusement went through the crowd, and the girl rolled her eyes.

"Not being born yesterday," Spike said, his smile inviting Xander to share the joke, "I decided to stick with a sure thing and I creamed your fucking arse, didn't I, mate?"

Robbie made an infuriated sound and swung his fist _hard_. Spike ducked it, but the next one slammed into his jaw and sent him staggering back, crashing into the pool table and ending up sprawled on his back.

His face was a mixture of astonishment and pain.

For some reason -- and he wouldn't have been able to say why, _couldn't_ , not even later, although he suspected it might have had something to do with the look on Spike's face -- Xander grabbed onto the back of Robbie's shirt, whirled the younger man around, and hit him. It was, quite possibly, the only perfect punch Xander had ever thrown, and it connected squarely with Robbie's nose. The _crunch_ was both satisfying and a little bit sickening, but it didn't hurt Xander's hand nearly as much as it probably should have.

Robbie went down hard, crumpling to the floor with both hands clutched over his nose and mouth, his girlfriend giving a startled cry and going quickly over to kneel on the floor next to him.

"You might want to re-think that," Xander told her. "Guys like him... they never change." He turned to Spike, who'd managed to get to his feet and straighten his shoulders, although he still looked pretty stunned. "You ready to go?"

"Bloke still owes me money," Spike said.

Xander gave Robbie a cursory glance. "He's bleeding; good enough?"

Spike gave Xander an unblinking stare, and then smiled. "Can't spend it, can't use it."

"Don't push it," Xander told him. There was a side exit and he headed for it with Spike at his heels.

He didn't think he'd have admitted it, but the whole time they were walking toward the exit, and even once they'd gotten outside, Xander was waiting for some previously unknown friends of Robbie's to attack them from behind. Which, okay, at least meant that they'd hit Spike first. But Xander should feel relieved about that possibility, not bad, and all of these thoughts were just giving him a headache.

Stepping outside into the cool, fresh air, Xander turned to Spike, noting that there wasn't anyone following them, and asked, "In _what_ universe does pulling a fast one on a guy that much bigger than you seem like a good idea?"

Spike sauntered a few feet further on, stopped, sighed and turned. "Did you miss the part where I wasn't pulling anything?" He prodded at his face. "And can I just take a minute to say 'oww'."

Xander could see the swelling of what was going to be an impressive bruise on Spike's face.

"You okay?" he asked, starting to walk, deciding that putting some distance between them and the pub wasn't a bad idea.

"It was a punch," Spike said, falling in beside him and looking less than pleased with himself. "One punch from a total tosser and I ended up on my back. No, I'm not bloody well okay. I feel like Superman after he's eaten a Kryptonite sandwich or something."

"I'm not saying he wasn't an asshole, but you let him think you were going along with his little scheme, and then at the last minute you pulled a fast one." Xander glanced over at Spike. "I'm not surprised he was pissed off."

"Pissed off _and_ pissed," Spike said. "If he hadn't been, winning every game wouldn't have been so easy."

"Yeah, well, maybe next time you should go to a different pub," Xander said. "Unless you want to get your teeth kicked in."

Spike did that _thing_ where he tucked his tongue behind his teeth and smirked. Xander didn't know what he wanted to do most; grin back, because that guy _had_ been asking for it, or punch Spike and wipe the grin right off his face. He settled for an all-purpose glare and the smirk got wider.

"Plenty of other pubs," Spike said with an indifferent shrug.

They walked along in silence for a while, and then Spike gave Xander a sidelong glance. "Thanks," he said.

Xander was surprised enough that he almost stopped walking. Almost. "You're welcome," he said after a minute. He held up his hand and looked at his knuckles, then tilted it in Spike's direction. "Not a mark on me."

"Wish I could say the same." Spike rubbed at his jaw. "Stupid humanity."

"You might want to watch who you're insulting there, bub," Xander told him.

"Hey, I'm a displeased member of the human race now, myself," Spike said, hunching his shoulders a little bit. "How do you _stand_ it? Knowing anyone can hurt you."

Xander thought about it for a minute, but it wasn't like things had ever been different for him. It was just... the way things were. "You get used to it," he said. "And if you're lucky, you learn to stop pissing people off."

"Because you're scared?" Spike shook his head, "Sorry. Spent too long being the scary one for that."

"So now you're going to be the idiotic one?" Xander asked. "Excuse me for thinking that doesn't make a lot of sense."

"That lad, Robbie; he didn't back down," Spike said thoughfully. He laughed without sounding very amused. "Not that I plan on using him as a role model, mind you." Xander got another glance from him. "So mind telling me why you saved the day? Automatic hero impulse kicking in? Because last time I looked I could take care of myself, you know."

"He was six inches taller than you," Xander said, like that was a good enough reason. "Plus, last time you looked, if you got hit in the face you wouldn't still be bruised a few days later."

"A few days?" Spike sounded disbelieving. He put out his hand and stopped Xander, turning him so that they were facing each other, with the light from a street lamp falling on Spike's face. "What do I look like? If I'm hideously disfigured, you can tell me."

Xander opened his mouth to assure Spike that no, he still looked pretty -- well, _pretty_ , and then saw the glint in Spike's eyes.

"Very funny," he said. "You've cut your lip and yeah, you've got a bruise coming on your jaw; you'll live. When we get back put some ice on it and you'll be fine." Xander began walking again. "'Course, once Giles finds out what you've been getting up to –"

"We." Spike smiled smugly. "What _we've_ been getting up to. Guess we're both getting spanked, hmm? Unless we come up with a convenient door for me to walk into and spare him the details."

Xander gave a short shake of his head. "Uh-uh, I'm not lying to him." That was one thing he'd promised himself he wouldn't do when things had first started between him and Giles. He'd learned his lesson there.

"You could let _me_ lie and just keep quiet?" Spike suggested without much hope.

"No." Xander shook his head again. "Anyway, it's not like he's going to care. _Or_ be surprised." Not about the Spike getting into trouble part, anyway.

Spike snorted. "Not going to care about his blue-eyed boy getting into a scrap? And that's you by the way, not me."

"Kinda got that," Xander said dryly.

"He's going to blame me." Spike sounded certain about that and there was enough resignation in his voice to make Xander feel the stirrings of pity.

"Let me do the talking, okay? But you know what? If Giles had been there tonight, he'd have probably done the same thing."

"Right," Spike said slowly, like it was the last thing he'd ever believe. "Giles would have stepped in and kept me from getting thumped."

"Yeah, he would have," Xander said. "You're having a hard time adjusting -- we both get that."

Spike stopped walking, and when Xander turned to look at him was wearing a funny expression. "Protecting me from myself, is that it?"

Xander tried to backpedal even though he knew it was probably too late. "No. I mean, not like that."

"Like what then?" Spike asked in a dangerously calm voice. "And now I come to think of it, what the hell were you doing there anyway? Thought you wanted to have some fucking quality time with Rupert. Well?" Spike took a deep breath when Xander didn't answer, looking angrier than Xander had seen him in a long time. "Did you come to fucking _baby-sit_ me or something?"

Seeing Spike all mad made Xander feel the same way. "Actually, if you have to know, Giles was trying to concentrate and I was driving him crazy. So technically you were the excuse to get me out of the house."

"Not sure I like that any better," Spike muttered, sounding sulky. "Would it have killed you to have come out and had a drink with me, anyway? Either of you?" He gave Xander a reproachful look. "Not like I'd have started anything with you two around, now is it?" He tilted up his chin, looking suddenly smug. "In fact, you could say it's all your fault this happened. Because the pair of you were too high-and-mighty to come out for a pint."

Nodding with satisfaction, he set off down the street, swaggering again, his good humor restored, leaving Xander to gape at him.

*****

Giles finished clearing the table and glanced over at Spike, who was humming under his breath and chopping potatoes rather inexpertly. He'd lost control of the knife at least twice and nearly cut himself, and although Giles had gone over and corrected his hold on the knife handle after each incident, he'd been given the distinct impression that further lessons would be indignantly refused.

"I'll just get the mugs that _someone's_ been leaving in the living room," Giles said pointedly, as though talking to the air.

Spike didn't comment.

There were only two mugs in the living room, and to be fair, Giles was fairly certain that one of them was Xander's. Who was due home fairly soon from work. They'd been taking it in turns to keep Spike busy and not leave him alone too often.

Pushing a pillow back into place on the couch, Giles straightened up and heard, "Bloody hell," from the kitchen.

Without rushing, because an exclamation like that from Spike could be prompted by anything from the sight of a squirrel in the small back garden to remembering that he was missing a TV show he liked, Giles went back to him.

"What?"

Spike turned around, his face pale, gripping one hand with the other. "Giles –"

He sounded panicky and shocked, and Giles found himself moving to him as quickly as possible. He was halfway there when he saw the bright blood welling up between Spike's fingers.

"God, what did you do?" Giles demanded, snatching a few sheets of paper towel from the roll on the countertop. Without waiting for an answer -- and he didn't really need one as it was obvious that Spike's complete ineptitude at preparing food had finally moved beyond clumsy to catastrophic -- he went to him and peered down at Spike's hand, steeling himself for the sight of a deep gash. The way Spike was cradling his hand, and the blood, made it impossible to gauge the depth of the cut, but from what Giles could see, it did look quite nasty.

"Over to the sink," he said, putting his arm around Spike, who seemed frozen with horror, and urging him to turn and take the two steps needed to reach the sink. Blood dripped down in scarlet splotches on the floor as they walked, and Spike stared down at them, his face twisting as if he was about to throw up. "Let's rinse it," Giles said, keeping his voice matter-of-fact.

"Gonna be sick," Spike said faintly, his good hand gripping tight to the edge of the sink as Giles brought the wounded one under the tap.

"No, you're not." Giles said it firmly, permitting no dissent. "Close your eyes if you can't look. Deep breaths."

The wound filled up with blood again as fast as the water washed it away, but it didn't seem deep enough to require stitches, at least. With Spike trembling beside him, Giles rinsed the cut for nearly a minute, making sure to get it good and clean before reaching for the drawer near his knee where they kept the freshly laundered dish towels. "That's it. Good lad. Do you need to sit down?"

Spike nodded, swallowing heavily and keeping his eyes averted as Giles wrapped the towel around his fingers and guided him over to the nearest chair.

"Put your elbow on the table," Giles said, eying the spreading stain on the towel. "Keep your hand elevated while I get the first-aid kit."

Spike nodded and Giles studied him for a moment, and then suggested gently, "Try putting your head down if you feel faint."

"'M not a contortionist," Spike said, with a flicker of his usual attitude. He turned his head, caught a glimpse of the blood on the towel and shuddered, dropping his head down to his knees.

Giles flicked on the kettle, intending to make Spike the universal panacea of a cup of tea, and then went to the cupboard where they kept an assortment of medications and bandages. They hadn't needed to use much in the way of dressings since arriving in England, but force of habit meant that Giles was prepared for anything. Being a Watcher meant that he was more than used to dealing with injuries; a cut finger was nothing.

Although given the way Spike was reacting...

Carrying what he'd need over to the table, Giles drew up a chair, sitting close enough that his knees brushed against Spike's. He reached down and gave Spike's shoulder a reassuring pat. "Soon have you sorted out," he said cheerfully.

Spike sat up straighter and turned his head away. "M'fine," he said, although it was very clear that he wasn't.

When Giles unwrapped the towel and wiped the fresh blood away, Spike breathed in sharply through his nose. "Relax," Giles said.

" _You_ relax," Spike shot back. "You're not the one bleedin' all over the place."

"Since when does the sight of blood bother you?" Giles asked. "Surely you've seen it thousands of times."

"Different now," Spike said.

"Why?" Giles was honestly rather puzzled. "Spike, I once dug a tracking device out of your back and, well, granted you'd downed most of a bottle of brandy, but you didn't even flinch. I've seen you covered in blood after a fight; yours or someone else's, and you never gave it a second glance." He started to wrap Spike's finger in a sterilized dressing. "In fact, on more than one occasion, I saw you licking it off -- no, never mind. Now _I_ feel sick."

"Told you," Spike said. "It's different."

"You'll heal," Giles told him, reaching for the roll of bandages and the scissors. "Not as quickly, and it might leave a small scar, but you _will_ heal, you know."

"Yeah," Spike said softly. "I know." But there was something in his voice that told Giles it wasn't that simple, and as he wrapped the bandage gently around Spike's finger, Spike added, "Gonna get old, too."

Ah. "Yes," Giles said. "You are."

"I didn't ask for this," Spike said.

"No," Giles agreed, "from what you've said, you didn't. But isn't it preferable to being dust in this dimension with your soul -- well, I don't know where that would've ended up. Isn't this better than that?"

"I was _immortal_ " Spike said with a soft vehemence that made Giles blink at him in surprise. "Immortal. Now I've got a couple of good years left before I'm senile and wearing a diaper." He glanced at his hand. "And, for the record, that fucking _hurts_. Hurts like hell."

It made sense that a vampire's pain threshold was higher than a human's, Giles supposed, but it was obviously something Spike hadn't really grasped.

"Give it time," Giles said. The kettle clicked off and he stood up to make the tea. "You'll adjust to the demands, limitations and differences of having a human body; you just have to be patient." He poured the boiling water into the teapot. "You're doing rather well, you know. I'm sure were I to become a vampire-"

"I could do that," Spike said. "Could find one. Get them to bite me." He didn't sound serious, but Giles almost wished he was; the dull resignation in Spike's voice was hard to hear.

"Shall we pretend you didn't say that?" he said, getting out two mugs and tipping in a couple of spoonfuls of sugar into one.

"You can pretend whatever the hell you want," Spike muttered, but when Giles looked at him pointedly, he sighed. "Not gonna do it. But I _could_."

Giles wondered if Spike gained comfort from the knowledge. "There are plenty of things you _could_ do," he said, leaning against the counter. "You just need to sort out what you _want_ to do."

"How am I supposed to do that?" Spike asked. He cradled his bandaged hand in his lap and studied it. "I don't even know where to start. Never been all that good at anything." He looked up at Giles, beautiful in his vulnerability.

"As a vampire, or as a human?" Giles asked. "Because as a vampire, I'd say you were successful by any standards. You survived for over a century and, although I'd rather not dwell on it, you killed two Slayers; I imagine you were viewed with some admiration by your peers." He smiled wryly. "You were good at being bad. And I imagine when you were human you were equally good at being good?"

He waited with some curiosity for Spike's answer. The Council records were fairly scanty on Spike's history before he was turned, but Giles had pieced enough together to know more about Spike than Spike would probably have liked.

Spike was still, looking at his bandaged finger again as though he couldn't summon the energy to lift his head. "For all the good it did me," he said. "Look where I ended up."

"You really don't want to see this as a reward, do you? As a second chance?" Giles shook his head, feeling a pang of disappointment that Spike was being so pessimistic, and turned around to busy himself with the routine of pouring the tea. He brought the mugs to the table and sat down facing Spike.

Spike took a sip from his mug and a little color came back into his face.

"Well?" Giles prompted him. "Can you really not think of anything positive in what's happened?"

"Besides royally pissing off Angel?" Spike's mouth quirked up in a reluctant smile.

Giles couldn't help grinning at him. "Besides that, yes."

After a moment, Spike shrugged. "There might be one or two things," he said, in a tone that made it fairly clear he didn't intend on being more specific.

Giles nodded. "You'll get used to the occasional injury," he said.

"If I'm lucky it won't include getting knocked on the head every other week," Spike said, his lips quirking upward again.

"I have a very thick skull," Giles said defensively.

"Good thing you do," Spike said. "Least there are fewer opportunities to get hurt now that you're off the Hellmouth."

" _And_ careful about where I choose to drink," Giles said, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. He'd been surprised when Spike and Xander had returned home from the pub so quickly the week before -- and, in Spike's case, sober -- but once he'd been told why, and checked that neither of them was seriously hurt, he hadn't felt any of the anger Spike had clearly been expecting him to show. They could handle themselves against more than a lout in a bar, after all, and when Xander had finished telling him what had happened and ended with, 'Well, what would you have done, Giles?' he'd shrugged and said, 'Much the same', and been rewarded by a smile from Xander and a puzzled look from Spike.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Right, Rupert. Next time I'll make it the Rose and Crown, shall I?"

As the average age of the customers in that particular pub was hovering in the high seventies and the click of dominoes on the table was the only sound likely to break the funereal silence, Giles didn't dignify that with an answer.

*****

 

Xander was cooking dinner and trying not to laugh at Spike, who was sitting at the table doing some translating work for Giles with his face about four inches from the paper. He gave the pasta sauce another stir -- spaghetti was about as far as his kitchen talents went, thank you very much -- and glanced over at Spike again. "Sit up, would you?" he suggested, like he'd done the night before when the extent of his meal preparation had been picking up the phone and calling for take-away. "You're gonna go blind with your eyes that close to the page." He frowned, mostly at himself. "Wait, maybe that's the TV."

"Did you hear me asking for your advice?" Spike grumbled, but he did sit up and then lean back in the chair, rubbing at his forehead.

"See? You're just asking for a headache." Xander checked the pot of water on the back burner, but it wasn't boiling yet. He heard the front door open and close.

It had to be Giles, but Xander hadn't been expecting him for another half an hour at least. With it being Friday, they'd planned to go out, and Xander was looking forward to a movie, jumbo-sized everything, and Giles beside him in the darkness, not enjoying himself at all, most likely, as there were no sub-titles and far too many explosions, but still there. And, yeah, he planned on seeing how much groping he could get away with. Watching Giles' jaw clench as Xander ran his hand slowly up Giles' thigh was worth the price of admission all by itself.

One look at Giles' face as he came through the door, and Xander was resigning himself to a quiet night in.

"Giles? You're back early, but I'm not seeing a TGIF smile on your face," Xander said.

Giles dropped a heavy briefcase on the table, nodded at Spike, and crossed over to Xander, giving him the brief kiss that was all Xander got when Spike was around and an even briefer hug. "I'm leaving for Munich tonight instead of next Tuesday," he said gloomily. "It seems something's come up and the only time Herr Graustein can join us is at the weekend. Without him, there _is_ no meeting and so –" He shrugged, rubbing his hand across his face. "The car's coming to pick me up in an hour; I'd better go and pack."

Shit.

What Xander wanted to do was sulk, but he wasn't a kid anymore, so he wasn't going to let himself do that. Much. At least, not until Giles had left. "I'll help you pack," he said instead. "Spike, when the water boils, throw the pasta in? And I don't mean that literally."

Spike grunted something that sounded affirmative, so Xander followed Giles upstairs, trying to think of something to say that would be supportive without making Giles feel guilty, but not managing to come up with anything.

"We were supposed to be going out, weren't we?" Giles said, hauling a suitcase from under the bed. He dropped it onto the bed and flipped it open. "I'm sorry."

He gave Xander an apologetic look, and then came over to him, kissing him almost hesitantly, which made Xander wonder just how pissed-off he was looking. "I really am sorry," he murmured against Xander's lips. "I'll be back late on Sunday afternoon though, so we'll have Sunday night at least."

"Contrary to some of my behavior, I'm actually a grown-up," Xander said, feeling guilty now for making Giles worry. "Don't worry about it, okay? I know you don't want to go." He _did_ know that, he told himself firmly. Sometimes work had to come first. The fact that it seemed to come first more and more often wasn't anyone's fault, it was just... one of those things.

"I wish you could come with me," Giles said, moving over to the chest of drawers and starting to take out what he'd need in the way of socks, shorts and ties. "But there's Spike to consider -- I know he's been fairly well-behaved recently, but even so -- and I'll be in meetings most of the time anyway." He started to fit the clothes into the suitcase. "You can still go out though, can't you? I know you were looking forward to it."

"Yeah, I guess." Xander managed to keep from pointing out that half the fun was going with Giles. "Maybe I'll see if Spike wants to go." He didn't mean it, of course, because the thought of voluntarily spending extra time with Spike was still on his list of things to avoid, even if Spike _had_ been a lot more tolerable the past few weeks.

Giles looked a little surprised, but then he smiled. "Well, he'd probably enjoy it more than me -- the film that is, not your company. And you wouldn't have to sit up waiting for him to come in plastered. It's a good idea." He crossed over to the wardrobe and took out some shirts. "Just make him pay for his own popcorn. He got paid for that last translation yesterday, so don't let him tell you that he's penniless."

Xander sat down on the bed next to the suitcase. "Yeah, I know. He was making a big deal about how he can smoke as much as he wants now that he's got money in his pocket again." He rolled his eyes. Then, trying to sound casual, he asked, "So, what are the chances that back on Sunday afternoon actually _means_ back on Sunday afternoon?"

"Good," Giles said instantly. "Very good. Unless there's a delay at the airport, road works or -- well, I won't borrow trouble." He gave Xander a small smile. "Did you have any ideas about what we could do when I get back? I think you'll find me willing to make amends for leaving you like this." He pushed the suitcase aside and sat down next to Xander, slipping an arm around Xander's waist. "More than willing," he said softly, leaving Xander wishing it were Sunday.

"I'm pretty sure I can think of something," Xander said, but he found himself turning into Giles' embrace and holding on a little bit more tightly than he probably should have. It wasn't that he couldn't deal with Giles being away, it was just that it was so sudden. Or at least that was what he was telling himself.

He felt Giles' hand stroking his hair and then coming down to cup his face, tilting it so that Giles could kiss him, his mouth warm and hungry. "It's two days, that's all," Giles said, sounding as if he was trying to convince himself as much as Xander. "No time at all, really." He rolled his eyes, giving up the attempt to console them. "And two nights, which are going to feel endless."

Xander smiled. "They're going to feel even more endless if Spike drives me nuts and I call you every ten minutes to complain," he said. He kissed Giles again, quickly, and then swatted the part of Giles' ass he could reach when Giles was sitting down. "Come on. Back to work."

Giles twisted his hand so that he could look at his watch. "Yes," he said unenthusiastically. "I suppose I should get on with my packing. And although I won't have time to eat any, perhaps you'd better go down and rescue your supper. I don't imagine al dente means much to an ex-vampire."

"True. Although he has to eat, too, so if he screws it up I'll make him buy me pizza." Slightly cheered up at the thought, Xander stood and walked over to the doorway, half an ear cocked for the sound of the smoke alarm going off in the kitchen.

"Oh -- the people I had investigating Spike's prophecy finally reported back to me today," Giles said, making Xander pause and look back at him enquiringly. Giles shrugged. "It seems it's as he said. No tricks, no sting in the tail... he's human and he's going to stay that way. Which means we don't need to keep an eye on him in case he's about to become a soulless fiend or something." He moved over to a small bookcase in the corner and bent down to study the titles. "Possibly you could encourage him to do some house hunting over the weekend?"

"Absolutely," Xander said. "On the other side of London, right? How far away could we get him and still have him be _in_ London?" The humor was a little bit forced, though. Pretending that he hated Spike _that_ much wasn't as easy as it used to be when he _actually_ hated him. When it hadn't been pretending.

Giles pulled out something that looked like a doorstop and was probably light reading for the plane. "Well, that's up to Spike, isn't it? But I think he'd prefer to be a little closer than that. We're the only people he doesn't need to hide his past from, and that has to be a comfort, although I doubt he'd admit it." He straightened and gave Xander one of his patented Giles-sees-all looks. "I thought you two were getting along a little better?"

Xander shrugged sheepishly. "Yeah, we are."

"I'm finding him better company than I expected, too," Giles said, making Xander feel like they were both confessing a sin or something. Getting along with Spike: did that rank higher or lower than coveting asses?

Giles walked back to the bed and placed the book beside his suitcase, ready to go in his carry-on bag. "And please don't make him feel that he's outworn his welcome. I'm not expecting to find him gone when I get back by any means. It's just –" He shot Xander an appealing look. "I miss being able to do or say anything I want, whenever I want."

Xander nodded, remembering the night when Giles had given him a blow job in the kitchen halfway through dinner. Not much chance of stuff like that happening with Spike around. "Maybe while you're gone he and I can at least look at some places. It'd give us something to do, anyway."

"Right," said Giles, sounding a bit distracted and checking his watch again. "I'm going to have a quick shower and get changed, I think."

"Okay." It was pretty clear to Xander that he didn't fit into any of that, so he sighed and went back downstairs to where Spike had dropped dried pasta all over the stovetop, and some of it was quickly turning black under the gas burner.

*****

"No," Xander said, trying to stop giggling, because giggling was definitely not manly. It was Saturday night, and they were walking -- okay, more like staggering -- home from the local pub, which Spike assured him was _not_ the one he'd gotten shitfaced in on Monday night. "The best part's when the rabbit attacks them!"

"Run away! Run away!" Spike bellowed, managing a brief sprint before he went back to walking. "Yeah, I liked the rabbit, too. Got to admire a bunny with attitude and fangs, right?"

"Until he starts biting you, anyway," Xander agreed easily. It was weird, how things with Spike were so different now that he was human. Admittedly, Spike was also a lot less annoying now. They'd had a surprisingly good time at the movies the night before, so when Spike had asked him if he'd like to go out for a few beers, Xander had said yes without hesitation.

And a few had turned into a lot. Neither of them were so far gone that they'd spend Sunday shuffling around wincing at loud noises like milk pouring onto cereal, but they were well into finding sensible things silly and silly things _really_ worth celebrating.

He'd always known a geek lurked beneath Spike's too cool for school exterior. Just not how much of a one.

"I miss the biting," Spike said thoughtfully. "Not the killing, so don't start lecturing me. But the biting... " He turned to Xander, his face intent. "You ever had sex when you're buried deep in someone, body and mind, and you can't tell where you stop and they start, you're that close? It's like that." His mouth twisted. "But I can't remember just how it was. It's fading."

Taken aback, Xander swallowed and firmly told his body that it was not to respond to the word-pictures Spike had just painted. "Doesn't sound like it's fading," he said. Then, "Wait, fading how? Like, how it felt? Or how to do it?" It was interesting to think that Spike's sense-memories might have been tied to his being a vampire, and that he could lose them.

"How it felt," Spike said sounding distracted, as if his thoughts were occupying all of his attention. "How it tasted... Can't imagine doing it now. Drinking, I mean. Hot blood pumping out, trickling and spurting and filling my mouth –" It seemed to Xander that Spike didn't need to imagine it when he could recall it that vividly. "Makes me feel like throwing up... but it shouldn't –" He turned to Xander, his eyes glittering. "Because it felt _good,_ and they liked it, too." He ran his tongue across his lips. "All those years in Sunnydale and you never got bitten, did you? Ever come close, Xander?"

Spike stepped closer and put his hand flat on Xander's chest, pushing him gently back, until Xander felt a wall behind him.

"Ever get this close?" Spike whispered, sliding his hand up into Xander's hair and tugging down, still with that odd gentleness, so that Xander's head tilted to the side and he felt the warm night air -- or was that Spike's breath? -- ghost across his exposed, taut neck.

Xander told himself not to freak out -- it wasn't like Spike could _really_ bite him, and Xander wasn't convinced he would even if he could have. But that didn't stop his body from reacting; he could feel his heart pounding, his breathing speeding up. "What do you mean, they liked it?" he asked, trying to ignore the little squeak in his voice.

"What do you think?" Spike said, lifting his head and staring straight at Xander, his body somehow managing not to brush against Xander's even though he was so close now it felt as if they were sharing the air they were breathing. "You think it hurts? Yeah, I suppose it does, but trust me, you're not caring about that by then. You _want_ that pain, because when it goes away so do you." His free hand lifted and Xander felt the tip of a finger stroke along the curve of his neck, making him shiver. "And it's the kind of pain that has your body screaming for more, but your mouth isn't screaming. It's making these little, soft whimpering noises. It's saying 'please' and 'stop' and I'm loving every one of them."

Spike's mouth fastened onto his neck, teeth and tongue working at the flesh he'd captured between his lips.

Frozen, Xander _did_ make a sound like a whimper. He was suddenly, painfully hard inside his jeans, his body straining toward Spike's, wanting more contact because Spike's mouth felt so good.

Then reality came slamming over him, and Xander pushed Spike away. They both stood there, breathing hard, staring at each other. There was a wary expression on Spike's face.

"Sorry," Spike said. He brought his hands up to his face, scrubbing them over it as if he was trying to wake up, and then shoving them deep in his jean pockets. He gave Xander an awkward smile. "Yeah. Drunk aren't I? Sorry. Won't happen again."

"It's okay," Xander said. "Me, too." They started walking again, with Xander glancing sideways at Spike every thirty seconds or so. "You're not gonna be sick again, are you? Because I don't know what happened to that bucket."

"Nah," Spike said, giving him a quick smile and relaxing, as if he'd been waiting for Xander to hit him or something. Which probably would've been the right thing to do, because Spike had been way out of line with the talking and the touching and the mouth on Xander's throat-- God, he had to stop thinking about it right there or he'd be walking into a well-lit room with a hard-on in about three minutes time. "You don't taste that bad, Harris."

"Fuck off," Xander said, grinning and reaching out to give Spike a shove that made both of them stagger. Strange how he could go from embarrassed to comfortable again in the blink of an eye. Although maybe all the beer had helped with that.

He managed to get the front door unlocked on the second try, and they went in. Leaning down to untie his shoes was an experiment in balance, but Xander persevered and emerged triumphant, looking up to see Spike leaning against the wall. "Are you sure you're not going to throw up again?" Xander asked.

"Might if you keep going on about it," Spike said. "What about something to settle my stomach? Giles still keep a few bottles of the good stuff around?" He took off his jacket and tossed it so that it landed over the stair rail, something Giles would've given him hell about, and then slid slowly down the wall, giggling as his ass hit the floor. "Ow. Yeah, really could use some medicinal whiskey." He leaned forward and began to untie his boots, frowning in concentration.

Already really damned close to sitting on the floor himself, Xander went the rest of the way down and crawled over to Spike, working at untying Spike's other boot. It wasn't that he was all that drunk, really; it was just that his fingers didn't want to work.

Okay, maybe he _was_ that drunk.

"I'm starting to think we're lucky we made it home," he said.

Spike leaned his head back against the wall, looking quite happy to have Xander waiting on him. "Home for you. Not for me. I'm just the bloody lodger."

"Uh, I think you actually have to pay rent to get called –"

"You're bloody lucky, you know that?" Spike said fiercely. "I've seen the way he looks at you. Like you're sunshine and stars."

Xander was _really_ sure Giles didn't. Did he?

"Like he wants to eat you up," Spike said.

Well, that, yeah...

"Like he loves you."

And whoa. _So_ not discussing that with Spike. Xander hauled Spike's boots off and sent them flying down the hall to thump against the wall.

"Come on," Xander said, struggling to his feet and holding out a hand to Spike to help pull him up. "Let's get you into bed before you start quoting cheesy song lyrics."

"Wouldn't," Spike muttered, but he took Xander's hand willingly enough. He didn't weigh much -- Xander had forgotten about that. Together, they walked back to Spike's room, where Spike, swaying, surveyed his messily made bed with what looked like dismay.

Xander went over and yanked the covers into something resembling order. "Here you go," he said. "Oh, and hey, here's that bucket just in case." It occurred to him that he probably ought to feel guilty for not only letting Spike get drunk again, but for actively participating in said drunk-getting, but at that moment he was really just tired.

"Will you shut the fuck up about the bucket?" Spike said. He stripped his T-shirt off, getting it stuck somehow on his ears so that as he fought to free it, Xander, who'd begun to snicker, found himself staring instead at Spike's chest and stomach, all flat muscles and smooth, bare skin.

Then the shirt came free, and Xander looked up quickly and met Spike's eyes, which held a half-puzzled, half-knowing expression.

"Still early," Spike said abruptly, sitting down on his bed and shifting over so that there was room for Xander. He leaned back against his pillows. "Want to play cards, maybe? There's a pack in my bag somewhere."

"That would require functioning brain cells," Xander said, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and then almost immediately falling over, the side of his face meeting the mattress with enough force that he made a little sound like _oof._ "Lying down," he said. "Lying down good." Of course, he was facing the wrong way, so that when he opened his eyes he was looking at Spike's feet, but that was okay.

Spike's socks were unnaturally white.

"Your socks are unnaturally white," Xander said.

Spike wiggled his toes in reply, which went off the cute-o-meter as far as Xander was concerned. He giggled -- he really had to stop doing that -- and reached out to tweak them.

"This little piggie –"

"Watch it," Spike growled without managing to sound remotely scary. "I'm ticklish. Might lash out without meaning to and break your nose with the piggie who had none or the one who cried all the way home."

Not wanting to chance it, Xander pulled his hand back. "Giles'd be pissed off if you broke my nose," he said. Then, reasonably, he added, "So would I."

There was a minor earthquake or something, and Xander shut his eyes. When the bed stopped heaving up and down, he opened them. Spike's face was next to his instead of his socks. "Do you really think I would? Break bits of you?" Spike blinked slowly, and then reached out and ran his finger down Xander's nose. Xander went cross-eyed trying to watch it. "Wouldn't do that, Xander. Wouldn't hurt you. Wouldn't hurt Giles."

"I know," Xander said. And he _did_ know that, really. Which was maybe why Spike had been annoying him so much less over the past couple of weeks. Once he'd gotten past the whole mad-because-he-was-scared thing, Spike had been... well, kind of fun. Almost like a friend. Of course, it could be the beer talking. But Xander wasn't sure it was.

"Should go up to bed if you're tired," Spike said, watching him.

"Mm. Good idea." Xander didn't want to move. "In a minute."

"Yeah," said Spike, going up onto his knees and managing to reach the light switch. The room went dark and Xander's eyes closed automatically. "No rush."

He thought the bed shifted again and he felt something soft get pushed under his head, but they were sensations that belonged to the waking world and he was leaving that world behind, rushing towards dreams.

*****

Dreams were good. Dreaming, with dream-Giles there to touch Xander and kiss him and say nice things to him that he didn't really say all that often in real life -- which was okay, because Xander didn't say them either -- was wonderful. Xander ran his own hand down along Giles' bare chest, kissing the back of his neck and shoulder, rocking forward against Giles' ass where it was spooned against him.

Xander was hard, which wasn't surprising, not with those sleepily contented murmurs of encouragement he was hearing and the warm body tight and close to his. He smiled against the skin he was kissing, starting to emerge from sleep because the dreams were good, but like most dreams, there were things that didn't belong.

In this case, clothes. Since when did he go to bed fully dressed? And why was his hand, dropping down to tease Giles' cock until it matched his own, if needed, brushing against denim and not skin?

The heel of Xander's hand rubbed the erection that was underneath that layer of denim, and the ass against his own cock bumped back into him, making him groan. The warm, half-dressed body in Xander's arms squirmed around suddenly, eager lips finding his and driving all thoughts from his head as an unfamiliar mouth tasting of beer kissed him. Xander rocked his hips forward again, his cock rubbing against another, his dreamy desire for more causing a second moan to escape him.

He kissed back, harder, his hand splayed over Giles' spine, only it wasn't Giles, because in dreams no one looked like who they really were, or felt like who they really were, or...

Xander opened his eyes and scrambled backward, almost falling off the edge of the mattress in his haste as he realized that this _wasn't_ a dream, that he was in _bed_ with _Spike_ and that he'd been _kissing_ Spike.

A hand -- Spike's hand -- came out and grabbed his arm, saving him from ending up in a heap on the floor, but doing nothing to quell his panic. He yelped and tried to break free, completely awake now even if he was still trying to match up memories and find out how the _hell_ -

"Relax, Harris," Spike said, without releasing him. "Your manly virtue's safe." Spike sounded tense and a little irritable, but as Xander stared at him, still so close that he could feel the warmth of Spike's body, he gave him a lazy grin. "You always wake Giles up that way? No wonder he comes downstairs smiling."

"I was just... we were..." Xander couldn't find the right words, horror at what he'd just been doing sweeping over him and joining the headache pounding at his temples to make him feel more than a little like he might need that bucket he'd been telling Spike about. Spike let go of his arm and Xander sat up, still facing Spike. He blinked and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Sorry."

"For starting something? Or not finishing it?" It could've sounded flip or sneering, but Spike's expression was neutral enough that it came over as just a question.

A loaded, tricky, impossible-to-answer question.

"It's not my fault!" Xander said defensively, trying to ignore the fact that his body still, most definitely wanted to finish. "I was asleep, okay? Also drunk. Not my fault." He licked his lips, and then stopped as soon as he realized that he could taste Spike there.

"That make it my fault then?" Something sparked in Spike's eyes, anger and regret maybe; Xander wasn't sure. "I wake up to find you wrapped around me and somehow I get the blame?" Spike glared at him. "Newsflash, Xander. That was you making the running there."

Spike rolled onto his back, scrubbing his hand roughly over his bare chest as if he was erasing Xander's touch. He glanced up at Xander and his hand slowed, stroked lower, undid a button, eased down a zip... Xander couldn't look away, but he shook his head in answer to a question that hadn't been asked and Spike laughed without humor. "Get out, Harris. Got some unfinished business to take care of."

Xander didn't know what else to do, so he fled the room as quickly as possible.

Spike's door remained closed for the next hour with Xander making noise, lots of noise, because if Spike was jerking off he didn't want to hear it. He showered first, letting the water run scalding-hot over his skin, closing his eyes against the spray. The day before he'd jerked off in the shower, thinking of Giles, remembering what they'd done in there more times than he could remember; not often actually fucking, because there wasn't that much space, but getting each other off with soap-slicked hands, or going dripping-wet from shower to bed, arms around each other, kissing frantically in between laughing at themselves for being so eager they couldn't wait to grab a towel.

And sometimes they did wait, although that was usually Giles' idea, drawing out the anticipation, taking the towels and blotting away every drop of water on each other, rubbing the thick material softly over damp skin, kissing and touching and shivering from more than the cool air.

Today, even if he'd still been hard, he wouldn't have done that. Couldn't.

So Xander showered, threw everything he'd worn the night before into the laundry basket, and then he went downstairs. Spike's door was still closed, so he put on music, not even caring that the CD was one of Giles', and that his head was throbbing, and he waited for Spike to come out of his room, because he sure as hell wasn't going in there.

He settled down on the couch after forcing down some toast, closing his eyes and lifting a mug of coffee to his lips now and then, trusting his hand to know the way blind, letting the sound of some band whose members were either dead or collecting their pension wash over him.

"Open your eyes, Harris. Want to talk to you."

The music cut off, and Xander opened his eyes and stared up at Spike, fully dressed, thank God, and looking determined.

Not a good sign.

"What?" Xander asked. "If you're planning on telling me in great detail what you did after I left your room, skip it, okay?"

"What?" Spike frowned, and then shook his head, looking mildly amused. "Huh. No. Something about you fleeing in terror killed the urge." He pulled over a footstool and sat down in front of Xander. "You're scared I'm gonna tell Giles, aren't you?" he asked abruptly. "Cause trouble for you."

Xander shook his head, looking down at the knee of his pants. "No. I'm going to tell him. I have to. I l--" But he'd hardly ever said that word to Giles; maybe just once, and it didn't seem right to say it to Spike, considering. Even though it was true. "I'll tell him. It's my fault anyway, not yours."

He wasn't sure he wanted to get into why he felt so fucking guilty. It wasn't because of what had happened, not really -- well, a little bit, but he hadn't even been awake. That part had just been a mistake.

The real problem was that, even once he'd woken up, he'd still wanted Spike. And that was something Xander was working very hard to repress.

Spike sighed. "Do you have to? The way my head feels I'm not up to getting bounced off a wall or yelled at. And if he kicks me out, judging by the rent on those places we looked at yesterday, I'm heading for a cosy spot in a doorway."

Flat-hunting hadn't gone well. They'd trailed around the neighborhood on Saturday morning looking at half a dozen places, most of which had been snapped up before they got there, all of which had been over-priced dumps, before giving up and going home.

"Besides," Spike said reasonably, "it's not like we did anything. Not really. Christ, you were fully dressed! You'd be upsetting him for nothing." He leaned forward. "And I've known Giles for long enough to know he's never going to believe you when you say it's not my fault."

"It wasn't _either_ of our faults," Xander said, trying to sound reasonable, too. "We were asleep. It just happened." He looked up, meeting Spike's blue eyes. "But I can't not tell him. That's not... it's not how I want things to be between us."

He got a long, searching look, and then Spike rolled his eyes. "Fine. Tell him. Just let me get the hell out of the way first, okay?" He stood up, fumbling in his pocket. "Going outside for a smoke." He got as far as the door before he paused. "Xander?"

"Yeah?"

"How do you want things to be between _us_?"

Oh, Xander _so_ wasn't up to answering that question, because admitting that he hadn't been able to forget what Spike's cock felt like under his hand or what Spike's mouth had tasted like wasn't something he even wanted to do himself, let alone tell Spike. And he _couldn't_ tell Spike and not tell Giles. So he had to pretend like it wasn't true.

"We can be friends," Xander said finally. "I mean... we can, can't we?"

"Could have been," Spike said. "Not sure that's an option any more. I don't mind trying though."

A key grated in the lock of the front door and their eyes met. "I'll give you a couple of hours," Spike said. "If I get back and my suitcase is on the step, I'll take the hint."

Oh, no. Giles couldn't be home early. Any other time, of course, Xander would have been thrilled, but he hadn't figured out what he was going to say yet. He needed at least a few more hours to figure out how he was going to tell Giles what had happened. This was too soon.

He got up without even knowing that he had and was standing in the doorway between the hall and the living room when Giles opened the door, his stomach all aflutter with tension as Spike muttered something to Giles and slipped past him and outside before Xander could say anything.

Giles' eyes met his, and Xander could tell that Giles was pleased to be home early, but the pleased expression faded to concern as Giles saw Xander's expression.

"Hi," Xander said, because he _had_ to say _something._

"Hello," Giles replied, turning to presumably watch Spike slouch away, a frown on his face. He closed the door, using his shoulder because his hands were full of suitcases and a clinking bag of duty-free booze with -- oh God, a long carton of the cigarettes Spike smoked sticking out of the top of it. Giles put everything down and stood there looking uncertain. "I managed to get an earlier -- Xander, what on earth is the matter? Has Spike been bothering you?"

There hadn't been enough time, and Xander hadn't figured out what to say. He opened his mouth to say something that would deflect the conversation -- not for long, just enough so that his brain would start working again -- and heard himself say, "I kissed Spike."

The frown on Giles' face disappeared, leaving it closed-off and blank. "Really? And what had he done to deserve that? Or shouldn't I ask?"

Xander could still feel the lingering headache at his temples, and the look on Giles' face -- or lack thereof -- made him feel like he was going to puke. He launched into a hasty, desperate explanation, inching toward Giles as he tried to describe what had happened, because he _needed_ Giles to understand and, hopefully, to tell him that it was okay.

"We went out. Last night. Just to the pub down the street, that one that you and I keep saying we should try, but never do? Which, okay, isn't the point. But we both got drunk, and then we came back here and I kind of... passed out on Spike's bed. Before that there wasn't anything, I swear -- just talking. But I was dreaming that it was you, and there was touching, and then he turned around and we... kissed." Xander ran out of breath and added, in a very small voice, "As soon as I woke up enough to realize it wasn't you, we stopped."

Giles looked tired suddenly. Xander felt guilty about that, too. God, he hadn't even let Giles get through the door...

"Xander, spare me the -- well, the sparing me. Please. I understand." Giles wasn't meeting Xander's eyes anymore, just staring down at the floor, his left hand flexing into a fist and then relaxing, over and over. "Do you mind? I think I'll just – "

Giles turned and moved towards the stairs, reaching out almost blindly for the banister rail.

Xander moved toward him. He couldn't help it. "Giles... it wasn't my fault, I swear. I was _asleep_." It felt like there wasn't enough air in the air.

"You sleepwalked into Spike's bedroom? Into his _bed_?" Giles' voice was calm until the final word, and then it roughened with an anger that replaced the lack of expression, but was equally unwelcome. "I don't think so. I think you ended up just where you wanted to be, Xander. Now, if you'll excuse me –"

"No, I'm not going to 'excuse you'," Xander said, more loudly than he'd meant to. "I thought he was _you_. God, doesn't that count for anything?"

"Yes," Giles said, after a long moment of staring at Xander, his face back to unreadable again. "It adds insult to injury. Satisfied?" He turned and snatched up his bags, the sudden movement unexpected enough to make Xander flinch, and then went quickly up the stairs, the sound of his footsteps punctuated by the slam of a door.

Xander was breathing through his nose, the sound of it uneven and strange. He didn't know what to do; he didn't even know where to start. Giles wouldn't even listen to him, and he didn't have anyone to talk to, or any friends, even. No one who'd understand.

He couldn't talk to Spike, because any chance he might have of making things right with Giles had to be based on him _not_ going to Spike now.

Slowly, feeling like he was moving underwater, Xander went into the living room and sat down. He stayed there until he heard the front door open and close, until he knew Spike was standing in the hall looking at him. Then Xander said, "Don't. Whatever it is, just... don't. Stay away from me for a while, okay?" His voice was pleading enough that Spike obeyed, going down the hallway and into his own room, shutting the door there.

They stayed like that for hours. Three of them, locked away in three private hells. At least Xander thought that was where he was, because Giles had _never_ looked at him like that before, and it would've hurt back in the days when Giles was a friend, but now it left him feeling as if he'd been beaten, his skin tight and bruised and sore.

But life, yeah, life went on, and the strained, heavy silence of the house was broken eventually by the sound of a door opening and footsteps on the stairs.

When Giles just kept on walking past the door to the front room without hesitating and went into the kitchen, Xander let himself start to get just a little bit angry. It was either that or let the stinging in his one good eye become tears and, thanks, but he wasn't there yet. Time for that when it was _his_ bag on the doorstep.

And if it was going to be, he wanted to know sooner rather than later. Getting up, Xander walked to the kitchen and stood in the doorway. "Do you want me to leave?" he asked.

Giles turned, startled, tea leaves scattering across the countertop from the spoon he held. Tea. Figured. Sometimes Giles was every stereotype there was.

But mostly he was Giles.

They stayed like that, staring at each other, for long enough to make Xander start to hope that Giles was about to drop that fucking spoon and come over to him and grab him and kiss him and tell him that he was sorry and let Xander tell him that no, _he_ was sorry. Any second. Yeah, any second now...

Then Spike appeared in the doorway, glancing between them warily. "You two kissed and made up yet? Because I'm getting bored stuck in there. Not to mention peckish."

Irritated, Xander dug his wallet out and thrust some notes at Spike, wondering exactly when he'd learned to throw money at problems. "Here. Go for a walk and get yourself some dinner. Two birds with one stone, okay?"

"Yeah," Spike said flatly, taking the money. "Sure."

Xander couldn't spare the energy to feel bad for Spike, not right then, so he ignored him and kept looking at Giles.

Who was looking at Spike.

"And now you're paying him?" Giles asked. "Well, that's just bloody marvelous! Tell me, Spike, how did you earn that little handout?"

Okay, this was better, Xander told himself desperately. They were speaking at least.

"Not for services rendered, Rupert, if that's what you mean," Spike said. "I'm still young enough to get fucked for free. Unlike -"

The sound of Spike getting slammed up against the wall wasn't as satisfying as it used to be.

"Spike, just _shut up_ ," Xander said desperately, not reaching out to touch Giles, because he didn't have any reason in that moment to think it would help. "Giles..." But he didn't know what to say. He felt cold and confused, like he'd woken up to this with no idea how they'd gotten here. "It's not Spike's fault. I just want some time to talk to you. That's all."

"He's not going to listen to you," Spike said, managing to sound fairly relaxed, despite being pressed up against a wall with Giles looking as if he was about to use one of the hands currently gripping Spike's shirt to do some serious damage to Spike's face. "Thinks he loves you too much to know if you're lying, because he can't trust himself to look that deep in case you are. But you'll know if I am, won't you, Rupert?"

"Too bloody right, I will," Giles hissed.

Spike nodded slowly. "Fine. Lad got pissed, passed out on my bed, woke up groping me and muttering your name. Woke up all the way, went paler than I used to look, and was out the door before I had a chance to tell him thanks, but no thanks. Now get your fucking hands off me and tell him you're sorry, you stupid git."

Giles let go and stepped back, his gaze going to Xander and then back to Spike.

"What," Xander said. "You don't believe him, either?"

"It's not that," Giles said slowly.

"Then what?" Xander's gaze was locked on Giles' face. "Spike?"

"Yeah?" Spike said.

"Could you do us a favor and give us a few minutes? Alone?" Xander had to hope that Spike would go along with it, because at that point he wasn't seeing how it was possible that he and Giles could get anywhere with Spike in the room.

"Yeah, sure," Spike said, and left the kitchen.

"I'm sorry," Xander said, still looking nowhere but at Giles. "You know how I feel about you. You can't think I'd deliberately do _anything_ to fuck things up between us."

Some of the tension left Giles' expression. "Deliberately? No, I don't think that." He sighed and turned away to deal with the spilled tea leaves, using the edge of his hand to push them along the counter and into the sink, giving the small task more attention than it needed. "You think I'm overreacting, don't you? Being rather embarrassingly jealous and possessive."

"I don't think you're overreacting," Xander said gently. "I get why you're upset. But it was a mistake -- that's _all_ it was." He eased closer to Giles, wanting to touch him. He hated seeing Giles hurt like this, especially knowing that _he'd_ been the cause of it.

Giles turned and took the few steps needed to bring him within touching distance for the first time since he walked through the door. His hand came up to cup Xander's face, warm and familiar. "Was it? And you didn't like it? And you didn't want to carry on pretending just a little longer? And it'll never happen again?"

The questions were voiced softly, but if Giles had screamed them into his face the effect would've been the same.

Xander flinched.

And Giles' hand fell away.

Xander wanted to grab onto Giles and refuse to let go, to sink down onto his knees and beg Giles to forgive him. With his voice shaking and his eyes threatening tears, Xander said, "I love you. I know I don't say it much, but I do, and if there's anything I can do to make things right again... I'll do it. Just tell me there's a chance."

Now it was Giles wincing, as if that was the last thing he wanted to hear, giving Xander a desperate, almost imploring look. "Xander -- please." Xander didn't know what Giles meant, but he didn't get chance to ask. Giles stepped back -- stepped _away_ \-- and said, "Xander, you asked if I wanted you to leave. I don't. Of course I don't. And I won't descend into melodrama enough to kick Spike out either, although I do trust that at some point in the weekend's activities you managed to squeeze in some house-hunting?"

With every word Giles was building up a wall between them, his voice alternating between bitter and casual in a way that was making Xander feel dizzy. _Really_ dizzy.

Xander swallowed and nodded. "Yeah. No luck, but we looked at some places." He really, really wanted to get off the topic of Spike. In fact, in that moment, he wished Spike had never shown up at their door; if he hadn't, none of this would have happened. Everything would have been fine.

Pushing his hair back out of his eyes, Xander decided that he couldn't stand to do this anymore. Not now. Maybe tomorrow, when they'd both had a chance to think. "I'm gonna go lie down," he said, and then remembered that their room wasn't really an option. "Um, in my old room."

He turned away, walking down the hallway and thinking that he might have heard a faint _click_ from Spike's door as he started up the stairs to his old, empty room.

Maybe he could just go to sleep, and when he woke up none of this would have happened.

*****

Spike lay back on his bed staring up at nothing in particular. Xander had retreated to his old room and Giles was being a solid lump of misery in the kitchenen, drinking his bloody tea and looking as if he was waiting for the sun to hitch itself over the yardarm so he could move on to whiskey. Spike had emerged, taken one look at him, got a level look from angry eyes that didn't bode well, and gone back into his room. Eventually they'd all have to eat and he supposed there'd be yelling, recriminations and soggy shoulders, but for now it was sticky silence and brooding tension.

Typical English Sunday afternoon in fact.

With nothing to do but think, it didn't take him long to get to Xander's refusal to answer Giles' questions. Spike had been listening -- if they didn't know he was, it didn't count; they still had their precious space, right? -- and he'd waited, resigned, for Xander to launch into a fervent denial, assuring Giles that Spike had cooties, bad breath and all the rest of it. Wouldn't have been true, of course, but it was what Giles had wanted to hear, and Xander could've pulled it off and been tucked up in bed with company right now, with Giles shagging the arse off him just to prove a point.

But he hadn't. He'd stood there in silence, and Spike hadn't needed to see the look on Giles' face to know that that hadn't gone down well.

Trouble was, although Xander had been tempted -- and Spike wasn't just thinking about the morning wake-up either, because Xander had been wide-awake when his neck was getting nibbled on and it'd taken him a while to get around to pushing Spike away. Funny how no one had mentioned _that_ to Giles, wasn't it? So, yeah, Xander had been tempted, but he loved Giles. Spike could tell. Knee-deep in hearts and flowers, the both of them.

So what the hell was Xander doing? And what was Giles picking up on that had made him make a right prat of himself like that? He was old enough to know that was the wrong way to play it. Bit of a manly tear to really put the screws on Xander, and then a spot of magnanimous forgiveness and he'd have had the boy on his knees.

Spike spared a thought for that and shuddered with a swift, savage arousal. Fuck. Xander, all penitent and eager, and _there_ \-- God, Giles was a fool!

Except he wasn't.

It didn't help that they'd all known each other for years and been about as close as you could get really. There was something about coming close to death that let you see people clearly. Spike'd watched them both fight and kill and mourn. Watched them laugh and sometimes, yeah, now and then, he'd been part of it with them. Didn't help now though. Not really. Because this was new; him as human, them as a couple; it changed everything.

And he was on the outside again when all he wanted –-

Fuck this. He was hungry and he wasn't leaving the house to get something to eat in case Giles changed his mind and didn't let him back in.

Spike slammed out of his room, not even trying to be quiet, and headed towards the kitchen.

Giles was still there, of course, but he didn't say a word as Spike opened the refrigerator and took out sliced meats and cheeses to make himself a sandwich. Spike could practically _feel_ Giles glaring at his back as he piled ham onto bread and added a smear of Branston pickle, then smashed the other slice of bread down on top and put everything away.

He couldn't keep quiet, though, not knowing that Xander was upstairs, miserable. "He loves you, you know," Spike said quietly.

"We're not talking about this," Giles said. "My love life is none of your business, and neither is Xander."

"Gotta disagree with you there, mate," Spike told him, despite the fact that he'd have shut up if he had any sense. "Not really interested in seeing either of you moping about, not talking, shutting doors in each other's faces. You both deserve better treatment than that."

"It's none of your concern," Giles said, looking right at him. "Leave it, Spike. Xander and I... we'll work things out." He sounded resigned and, Spike thought, not particularly happy.

Sighing, Spike gave up for the moment and went back to his room, deliberately leaving the door open. He spent the rest of the evening in there, reading some books that had to be Giles' and, after Giles and Xander had both, apparently, gone to bed, messing around on the computer a bit. Still, it wasn't all that late when he finally turned off the lights and crawled between the sheets.

Something startled Spike awake a few hours later, the pounding of his heart loud against his ribs as he tried to sort out what had woken him. After a minute, he realized there were sounds coming from the kitchen. Getting up, he pulled on a pair of jeans, and then, thinking about it, a T-shirt. No point in giving either Giles or Xander more reason to act like prats.

He wandered into the kitchen, where Xander was staring blankly into the open refrigerator. There was a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, but he wasn't wearing anything save a pair of soft cotton sleep trousers. In the light from the fridge, he looked pale, his eyes glassy, his hair tousled.

Spike hesitated, not sure if Xander wanted his company, and then shrugged mentally and walked over to him. "You all right?" he asked softly. "Was expecting you to come down and get something to eat before, but you didn't. You must be starving."

"What?" Xander's voice sounded off, but he turned his head to look at Spike. "Oh. No. Not hungry." Which left the question of why he was standing in front of the open refrigerator. "Aren't you cold? It's freezing in here." Xander shut the fridge and leaned against it, pulling the blanket around his shoulders tighter, and Spike saw that he was shivering.

It was warm enough for Spike to wish he wasn't wearing anything; a humid summer night in a non-air conditioned house. He frowned, reaching out and resting the back of his hand against Xander's cheek. Even before he touched him, he could feel the heat radiating from Xander's body, a warning backed up by the rough, dry feel of his skin.

"Looks like you've come down with something," Spike murmured, trying not to panic. Slashed skin, dark bruises; he was used to those. Illness was new and unfamiliar and terrifying. "Bit of a cold, maybe? Better get you back to bed."

"Can't," Xander said, shaking his head and weaving a little bit like his sense of balance was off. Spike could hear something else in Xander's voice now, the thin thread of near-hysteria that wasn't unfamiliar to him, just unfamiliar coming from Xander.

"Why not?" Spike asked reasonably.

"Don't want to," Xander said. "All alone in there. The room's too small, and my hands..." He held them out and they both looked down at them. "Don't my hands look too big to you? I'll keep getting bigger and pretty soon I won't even fit in there. M'only safe with Giles, and he doesn't want me anymore." His eyes, wide and scared, met Spike's.

"Shit," Spike muttered succinctly. This was beyond him. Drusilla's ravings, yeah, those he could take in his stride, but the delirium of sickness had a logic of its own and he was lost. Taking Xander's hands in his, he studied them carefully. "Look fine to me, Xander. And Giles _does_ want you, so don't go fretting about that." He glanced up hopefully, but Xander was staring over his shoulder, his face twisted up as if he was trying to focus on something that didn't exist.

"Sorry to interrupt," Giles said from the doorway, his voice cold. His gaze dropped to Spike and Xander's linked hands. "What _am_ I interrupting, just out of interest?"

"Save it, Giles," Spike snapped, not in the mood for any more of Giles' attitude. "Something's wrong with him. He's hot and he's not making any sense."

Xander's hands clutched at Spike's, tightening. "I'm not sick," Xander said. "And I'm not hot, I'm cold. And... dreaming. I think."

Spike turned to look at Xander's face again just in time to see his eyes go all unfocused, his hands in Spike's going slack as he started to collapse. Spike barely managed to catch him as he fell, sliding to the floor right along with him in his anxiousness to keep Xander's head from hitting anything on the way down.

He was surprised by how much he cared.

*****

If Giles had been the kind of man who froze in a crisis through shock, he would have been dust and bones in a lonely grave by now. It was remorse that held him in place as Xander fell, not surprise.

He had the advantage over Spike of knowing exactly what was wrong with Xander, but that wasn't much help when he was cursing himself for leaving Xander alone all day, when, if they'd been together, he'd have noticed the signs of an approaching attack of malaria.

It was what had sent Xander home from Africa, it was something Giles had nursed him through twice, each time hoping it was the last.

He didn't hesitate long, but long enough that when he knelt beside them Xander was cradled in Spike's arms.

"What the fuck is wrong with him?" Spike asked, his voice urgent and rough. "Call a doctor or something!"

"No need, not yet," Giles said tersely, not sparing him a glance. "It's a flare-up of malaria. We keep a supply of the drugs he'll need; we just need to get some into him and reduce his fever." He stared down at Xander as his eyes fluttered open, gazing blankly up at them. "Why didn't he _say_ he was feeling ill," he muttered. "We could have started the treatment right away."

" _Malaria_ ," Spike repeated as if tasting the word on his tongue. "Thought they could give you a jab against that these days."

"No, there's no vaccine," Giles murmured absently, feeling the heat radiating from Xander's skin and cursing himself for the exceedingly bad timing of all of this. Spike's hand was, he noticed, rubbing up and down along Xander's bare arm where the blanket he'd had wrapped around had slipped down.

Xander blinked slowly. "Giles?"

"Right here," Giles said, trying to keep his voice level and reassuring. "You're going to be fine, Xander. We're going to get you back to bed –"

"He wants to be in _your_ bed," Spike put in. Giles glared at him, thinking his comment ill-timed, but Spike went on, "He was getting all upset about the idea of going back to the spare room for some reason."

"Oh." Giles gave in at once, knowing that reasoning with Xander was pointless when he was in this state. And it wasn't as if he didn't want Xander back with him -- he'd been lying there wide-awake for hours, after all, missing Xander more than he'd thought possible. "Right. Help me up with him, will you?"

"Course."

Between the two of them they managed to get Xander to his feet, although the blanket had to be left behind. The heat coming off Xander was appalling, and again Giles muttered, "Why didn't he _say_ something?"

He hadn't expected Xander to answer, not under the circumstances, but he oughtn't to have been surprised when Spike did. "What are you, stupid?" Spike asked. "You _know_ why he didn't say anything -- because you were pissed off at him and he didn't know how you'd react."

Giles met Spike's accusing eyes. "No matter how I was feeling, he should've known that if he was ill –"

"Save it," Spike said curtly. "Not interested, Rupert."

Biting back a retort because Xander started to shiver, his teeth chattering, Giles lapsed into a silence that ended when they reached the bedroom.

"Hold onto him while I strip the bed," he said.

Leaving Xander in Spike's arms, his dark head resting against Spike's shoulder, Giles pulled back the top covers, and then went to the bathroom for an armful of large towels, spreading them over the mattress.

"Right," he said. "I'm going to fetch the medicine. Get him on the bed and stay with him."

By the time Giles got back with the tablets, a basin and sponge, Xander was curled up on his side on the bed with Spike sitting behind him, one hand smoothing Xander's damp hair away from his forehead. Spike was leaning over and murmuring something nearly in Xander's ear, something soothing, but he stopped as soon as Giles stepped into the room.

"Get that bottle of water behind you," Giles said, gesturing with his chin at the bedside table and refusing to acknowledge Spike's obvious feelings for Xander.

Spike turned and got it as Giles set the basin down on the floor and sat on the side of the bed, running his own fingers gently over Xander's face. Xander opened his eyes again, but it was clear from his dull expression that he was too fevered to make much sense of what was going on.

Giles shook out a tablet and then slipped his hand under Xander's neck, feeling the sweat-damp hair cling to his skin. Moving quickly, he pushed the tablet into Xander's mouth and then tilted the bottle of water against his lips. Xander tried to stop him, his head twisting from side to side, but enough went down his throat to wash down the medicine, and Giles sighed with relief.

It was a start.

The next stage was to get Xander cooled off. A tepid bath would be ideal, but Giles really didn't want to move Xander more than he had to, and he'd decided to see what he could do with a sponge bath.

Which meant stripping Xander out of the sleep trousers he was wearing, but he was damned if he was doing that with Spike around.

"I can manage now," Giles said, giving Spike a dismissive look. "Thanks."

Spike frowned. "What, one pill and everything's fine again? He's burning up... I think we ought to get him to hospital, don't you?"

"He hates it there," Giles said. "I nursed him through the previous relapse at home, and I can do it again. I don't need your help." _Or want it_ remained unspoken, but hung heavy in the air all the same.

Xander curled up around himself a bit more as his chills returned with a vengeance. Fortunately, the medication would work fairly quickly on the worst of the symptoms, but at this point getting Xander's temperature down would make him comfortable a lot faster.

Ignoring Spike, Giles spoke to Xander comfortingly and reached for the basin, bringing it up onto the bed and wringing out the sponge. As soon as the tepid water touched Xander's chest, however, Xander struggled backward, nearly bumping Spike off the bed and drawing a startled exclamation from him.

"Fine," Giles said tightly, as though Spike had voiced a determination to stay and help. "Hold him, will you?"

Spike gave him a swift glance and then pinned Xander's shoulders to the bed, his back to Giles, using a precision of force that was rather chilling, Giles reflected, when you considered how he'd acquired it. But Spike was bending his head and talking to Xander, a stream of soothing words that seemed to calm him, and there was nothing of the predator about him now.

Giles hooked his fingers in the waistband of Xander's trousers and pulled them down, peeled them down in fact, as they were clinging damply to Xander's legs. Impossible not to react to the sight of Xander naked, even like this.

No; especially like this. Giles dipped the sponge into the water again and squeezed it out just a little, his gaze travelling over Xander's body.

He lay sprawled, legs open, arms by his side, palms up-turned, utterly lost in his fever-dreams, his skin flushed and the hair on his stomach, the fine, dark trail of hair Giles had traced and followed down with hand and mouth so many times, a shade darker with sweat. Xander's cock was half-hard, resting against his thigh, as if responding to the weight of Giles' regard.

Edging up the bed a little, and wishing he'd thought to put more on than just a robe, Giles began to sponge Xander down, his arm brushing against Spike's as the man worked to keep Xander still.

Xander whimpered and twitched against Spike's restraining hands as Giles slid the damp sponge down over his fevered chest, his nipples hardening at once into tight points. It was upsetting to see him like this, but Giles couldn't allow himself to indulge in those sorts of thoughts. It was important to concentrate on doing what he could to lower the fever for now; soon enough Xander would feel better.

A droplet of water clung to the hollow of Xander's collarbone, and then slowly slid its way to his shoulder. Giles watched it as if spellbound, and then he glanced up at Spike, who looked up from the same droplet at that exact moment. Their eyes met and held.

"Seems like he's calming down," Spike said, sitting back on his heels and brushing Xander's hair away from his forehead again. Xander didn't protest the next fresh pass of damp sponge across his chest and belly, so Spike must have been right, and yet Giles didn't ask him to leave despite the fact that his assistance was no longer required.

Together, they watched the glowing sheen of damp on Xander's skin, painted on as though it were velvet. They both saw when, as Giles ran the sponge down over Xander's hip bone and along his thigh, Xander's cock swelled and twitched.

They both heard Xander's small moan, a moan that sounded as much like pleasure as pain.

And again, Giles glanced at Spike, seeing in his eyes an arousal that must have been plain in his own. The swift rise of an angry possessiveness was halted before he could give it voice when Xander's hips lifted as though begging for the cool relief of the water-laden sponge, the small movement drawing Giles' eyes away from Spike.

When he dragged the sponge over Xander's cock and Xander cried out softly, his eyes closed, Spike's hand reached out, gripping Giles' wrist.

"Let me help."

Giles wanted to refuse. Spike could look -- somehow he couldn't deny him that -- but his hands on Xander, while Giles watched? That was -–

"Oh God," Giles whispered, so quietly it was an exhalation, not words, enlightenment bought at the price of peace of mind. To give himself time to think, he soaked the sponge again and passed it to Spike who took it with a nod and, with more composure than Giles was feeling, started to run it gently over Xander's thigh, down to his knee.

Giles watched him, thoughts tumbling and clashing in his head.

Angry. Yes, he'd been angry and jealous -- but he'd felt hurt, excluded more than anything. And the jealousy hadn't been as simple as wanting Xander for himself; it included Spike.

 _What the hell has he done to us?_ Giles thought, resentment and desire tangling within him. _Confusing everything -- spoiling it all -_

Xander shifted on the bed again, a whimper emerging from his lips. Giles glanced down and saw Spike draw the sponge up along the inside of Xander's thigh, finishing high enough that his fingers brushed Xander's balls.

Giles' hand flashed out to grip Spike's wrist, his fingers tightening brutally hard. "No," he said firmly, almost harshly. "Not like this."

Spike's hand stilled, and then he nodded. "How, then?" he asked.

"What makes you think I'll ever let you touch him?" Giles asked, his voice thin and tight. "Awake or asleep, he's still mine –" He faltered on the final word, because what had been true a week ago was now just a memory of a truth, hollowed-out and empty.

Here with Spike, in the dark hours of the night, with the restless, suffering body of the man he loved and Spike wanted laid bare for them both to see, it wasn't that simple.

The heat they'd taken from Xander with each cool stroke of the sponge was soaking into him. Giles could feel it suffuse his body, a reckless, urgent heat, clamoring and insistent. He laid his free hand against Xander's stomach, low down, so that when he spread his fingers against skin that was already warm, not burning, his thumb scraped softly against Xander's cock, making Xander groan, the sound all the heat inside Giles needed to explode.

"You -- fucking -- _no_ ," Giles managed to get out, and then his hand was around Spike's neck and he was pulling him close enough to kiss, biting down savagely on Spike's lip, sucking at it hard.

Spike... well, it would have been an exaggeration to say that Spike kissed him back. It was more that Spike allowed himself to be kissed, and that was enough to make Giles hesitate; but, in the moment he did, Spike turned the tables, making a small, eager sound and returning the kiss with no less desire than Giles felt, lips parting under Giles' determined tongue and letting him in to taste the inside of Spike's mouth.

Just as Xander had -- which was all the reason and all the excuse Giles needed, somehow. And with Spike's tongue warm against his, and Spike's hands sliding inside Giles' robe, pushing the loose folds open, baring Giles's shoulders and chest, it was enough.

His cock was achingly hard and he wanted -- oh God, what did he want? Revenge? No. Not that. Acceptance, assurance that he belonged, that he was wanted? Maybe. Spike's hands on him? Yes, that. He wanted that.

Spike's T-shirt hung loose over his jeans, allowing Giles to reach his back, touch skin he'd seen gleaming cool and pale in the past and been stirred by, aroused by, but he would never -- and he hadn't, no, he hadn't. Vampire. Soulless. Evil.

And none of that was true now, and Spike was warm and alive in his arms, straining to get closer, until they both moved off the bed, sliding to the floor and kissing frantically, pulling and tugging at what little they were wearing, kicking and shrugging out of it until they were naked and close, soft, harsh whimpers mixing with guttural words, all silenced with kisses.

Spike's skin was so _warm._ Not that Giles had touched Spike all that much in the past, but even still, he couldn't get over it now. Had to keep touching, sliding his hands over every bit of skin he could reach, especially that muscled, flat abdomen that couldn't have been more perfect.

They were on their knees, Giles' insistent cock riding the sharp line of Spike's hip, Spike's hands on Giles' arse pulling him closer, seemingly as desperate for more as Giles was himself. Spike's mouth was eager as well, the skill of his kisses betraying his hundred plus years of experience with each talented movement, and Giles couldn't help but wonder what a mouth like that would feel like on his cock... There was a soft sound from the bed that brought him slamming back to a reality that he didn't want to return to, a hoarse, small voice saying his name. "Giles?" Xander sounded confused.

Spike's fingers tightened; a startled reflex that brought their bodies together one last time, and then Giles sighed, leaning his forehead against Spike's for a second. He expected to feel shame, even anger at himself or with Spike, but there was nothing but confusion and disbelief filling him and so much of it that it left him groping for a reaction.

Then Xander spoke his name again, his voice drowsy, and it all became simple, because Xander needed him.

"Go," he murmured to Spike. "Please?"

Letting his arms slip away without regret, even with some relief that when he did as Xander had done and confessed, he'd have no more than this to tell, Giles pulled on his robe and got to his feet.

Spike picked up his own clothes and headed for the door, although Giles could hear that he stopped just outside it, presumably dressing again, as Giles sat on the side of the bed and reached a hand out to touch Xander's forehead, which was still quite hot.

Xander opened his eyes at the touch. "What happened?" he asked, sounding as if the words were difficult to come by.

"Another malaria attack, I'm afraid," Giles said, keeping his voice steady with an effort. "You've taken your medicine, don't worry; you'll feel better soon, I promise."

"Damn," Xander said, closing his eyes again. "I thought we beat it last time." At least he was coherent, Giles thought; that meant the fever had reduced somewhat. Xander opened his eyes, his gaze flickering about. "I'm back in your room." It was clear that he wanted more information.

"You went downstairs for something," Giles said, wondering how much Xander remembered. "Spike woke and went in to you. I was... not sleeping, and I went downstairs."

 _Because I thought you were going to him. Because I needed to_ know _. Was even looking forward to an argument after the hours of silence, the chance to hurt you both as I'd been hurt -_

The shame came then, bowing Giles' head as he tried to compose himself.

Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, Xander didn't seem capable of noticing that anything was wrong past what he already knew. He reached out and tangled his fingers with Giles', but tentatively, as if expecting to be rebuffed. "You still mad at me?"

"No," Giles said, the single word forceful and sharp. "Xander, I'm so sorry about that. We'll -- we'll talk about it when you're better, not now, but you need to know that I love you, and I'm just -- I'm sorry." He brought his other hand up to cover Xander's, squeezing it gently.

God, he could see now why Xander had just blurted out a confession like that. The urge to tell, to be forgiven, was strong, but it would have been selfish and cowardly to give in to it. Xander didn't need to be upset right now, and he deserved to be told when he wasn't reliant on Giles for his care.

Xander tugged at his hand weakly. "So if it's okay for me to be in here, would you lie down with me for a little while? Please?"

Giles began to refuse; shared body heat was the last thing Xander needed, but Xander's anxious face was telling him that he needed more than words to convince himself that Giles still loved him.

He lay down beside Xander, touching him with the tips of his fingers, stroking them lightly down Xander's arm as they lay facing each other.

"I missed you while I was away," he murmured, setting aside the hours they'd been estranged, taking them back to the moment he'd walked through the door. "Hours of endless babbling in public, with all the real decisions made in private -- so pointless in some ways, but you'll never get them to admit that."

He felt Xander relax.

"And if you'd been there you'd have got to see me slamming my fist down on the table and saying something very rude to the Lithuanian delegate, which I'm sure looked very impressive, even if I did have to spend the next five minutes trying not to let the agony show as I'd hit the table a lot harder than I'd planned."

Giles held up his hand, showing Xander the bruise along his little finger, and then let his hand rest on Xander's hip, linking them without getting too close. Xander's eyes were half-closed now.

Xander hitched himself a bit closer, his breathing just a bit too quick as his body fought against the illness that Giles, too, had hoped not to have to watch Xander go through again. "I'm sorry," Xander whispered. "I didn't want to want to. I don't. I want _you._ " The way the words spilled out, easy and somewhat slurred, indicated that he probably didn't realize how honest he was being. "Don't be mad at me."

"I'm not," Giles said helplessly. "Xander, I'm not." He surrendered and took Xander in his arms, just for a moment, holding him close. "I'm not angry at all," he whispered, kissing Xander's forehead, tasting the salt-heat there. "See?"

Apparently desperate for the contact, Xander pressed himself still closer, rubbing against the loosely fastened front of Giles' robe. The fabric parted, and Giles could feel Xander's hot skin flush against his own. Xander's mouth found his in a kiss so hot it made Giles breathless. "Love you," Xander murmured, settling down into Giles' arms, but clinging as though he had no intention of letting go. "Stay here, okay? Don't go."

Giles closed his eyes momentarily against the guilt and longing he felt. "Xander –" he said, and then shook his head. "I'm not going anywhere," he said. "I promise." He eased them apart a little. "But you're so hot, love. Let me try sponging you down again -- or do you think you could make it to the bathroom? Soak in a bath for a while?"

Xander shook his head, hiding his face briefly against Giles' chest, then sighed and pulled back slightly with an expression that Giles recognized well. It was the one that Xander wore when he knew he needed to do something he didn't particularly care to do. "I'm all yours," Xander said, rolling onto his back, spreading himself out for Giles' inspection and, presumably, care.

The fact that seeing Xander like that sent a fresh surge of complicated lust through him was something Giles had to push aside. Resolutely, he reached for the basin and sponge.

Xander whimpered as the cool water dripped on his skin, and Giles managed to smile. "I can practically hear it sizzle," he said lightly, making sure his face didn't show anything but concern. "Roll over; let me do your back."

Xander made a small, protesting grumble at having to move again, but he obeyed, and Giles bent to kiss his shoulder blade briefly. "Ready?" he asked and brought the sponge down as Xander nodded.

By the time he'd finished, Xander had fallen asleep, his body barely reacting to the slow sweep of the sponge.

Giles tidied everything away and stretched out beside him, staring into the darkness until exhaustion rescued him from thought.

*****

Xander woke up from a light doze and groaned softly. The muscle aches from the malaria relapse would have been enough to make him miserable even if he hadn't been feverish, but since he was, all he could do was curl up on his side in misery and wait for it to go away.

He'd spent the night with Giles, sleeping and waking and sleeping again, sometimes waking up fully enough to remember why he felt so upset, but never for a long enough time that he could think about it to any real degree. By the time the alarm went off and Giles got up, Xander was aware enough to ask if Giles was going to work, but Giles had said no, he was going to stay home and take care of Xander.

 _That_ had been a relief, because it meant that Giles was committed to trying to work things out. He had, apparently, sent Spike off to the office, and Xander was hoping that one of the reasons for that was so that the two of them could talk on their own. Not that he was really looking forward to the conversation, but he'd do whatever he needed to.

Speaking of conversation, Giles appeared in the doorway with a tray of food, not saying anything right away in case Xander was still asleep.

"I'm up," Xander said, not moving. "Although I have to admit there's part of me that's wishing for that IV at the hospital that makes everything go so soft and fuzzy and un-hurty around the edges."

"Poor Xander," Giles said, with just the right blend of sympathy and serene confidence that he could look after Xander better than any hospital. "But really, when I think of how you were last time, I'm sure this attack is milder. If we'd just caught it a bit sooner –"

He set the tray of food down on the bedside table and pulled a chair over, sitting close enough that he could take Xander's hand but not close enough to jar the bed, for which Xander was grateful.

"And that was my fault, as much as yours," Giles continued. "Leaving you alone while I, well, sulked is a kind way of describing it. Xander, do you feel up to talking about it? Because there's something I want to tell you, but it can wait, honestly."

Xander looked at their hands together, thinking that how miserable he felt now was nothing compared to yesterday when he'd thought Giles might never even be _this_ nice to him again. "Hey, you know me, Blurt-It-Out guy," he said. He figured some more apologizing wouldn't be out of place. "I'm sorry. Really, really sorry." A sudden bolt of fear shot through him, and he didn't know if he should hold onto Giles' hand more tightly or let go of it. "The thing you want to tell me... it's not that it's over, is it? Please tell me it's not."

Giles hesitated, which was so not what he should be doing, and then he shook his head. "I love you, Xander. More than I've ever been able to tell you. I don't want to lose you. _Ever_." The vehemence was reassuring and scary at the same time, because it was obvious Giles wasn't done. "But that might not be the way you feel when I tell you –"

Giles' fingers clasped his, and then Giles pulled his hand away and took a deep, I'm about to break your heart, breath. "Last night -- Spike helped me get you up here. Do you remember that?"

He tried, _really_ tried, to remember, but most of the night before was a blur. Xander didn't even remember going downstairs in the first place. "No. You didn't... you didn't beat him up or anything, did you?" He answered his own question. "No, I know you didn't. Sorry."

"God, if only!" Giles muttered. He ran his hand over his hair and gave Xander a desperate, pleading glance. "Xander, _I_ kissed him. A lot. On this bed, with you lying between us, then on the floor, and I don't know where it would've ended up if you hadn't called my name, and –"

Giles ran out of words, which just never happened, and sank his head into his hands. "I am so bloody sorry," he said after a moment, when Xander was still staring at him in a stunned silence. He lifted up his head. "I wish you were well enough to hit me or something. I deserve it. I deserve worse than that. The only thing I don't deserve is you."

Xander had no idea what to say. He didn't even know how he _felt._ Well, other than sick, and that was kind of a given just then.

"Give me a minute, okay?" he said, looking at Giles, then he clarified, "Don't go anywhere. Just... let me think."

Giles didn't move, just kept sitting there with his head in his hands like he was waiting for a death sentence or for Xander to yell that he didn't love him anymore or something.

Some things were simple. Xander _did_ love Giles, and he didn't think anything could change that. Other things were more complicated, like that fact that Xander was starting to think he liked Spike way more than he should.

"You kissed Spike," he said, slowly.

Giles straightened. "Yes," he said, sounding wretchedly unhappy. "You were -- you were naked. I was sponging you down and you were -- you wouldn't keep still. Spike held your shoulders –" Xander felt a sense-memory surface, of strong hands and blue eyes and the splash of ice-water searing his skin, and then sink back again. "You -- God, Xander, you don't know what it was like!" Giles' voice dropped, thickened. "You were there, between us, and I was so tired and so worried and I felt as if it wasn't happening, not really."

Giles swallowed and sat back, his eyes never leaving Xander's face now, as though he was determined to hide nothing. "Seeing you like that aroused me," he said bluntly. "Unforgivable and completely inappropriate, I know, but it did. You were hard, I'm not sure why -- you certainly weren't aware enough, but -- and you were making these sounds –" Giles face flushed and Xander felt his own skin heat, not with fever but embarrassment and a stirring of lust, basic and primal. Shit. He could see himself spread out naked on this bed with both of them staring at him, and both of them hard because of him, and _shit,_ that shouldn't turn him on this much...

"He wanted you, too," Giles said, the words spilling out. "He asked to help bathe you and I -- Xander, I let him, and when I saw him touch you, saw you respond, I just -- I snapped and grabbed him. I wasn't doing it to get back at you, or because I don't love you, I just -- I wanted you and I couldn't have you, and Spike was mixed in with it all somehow, and he -- we didn't, you have to know that we didn't -- but –"

And finally, finally, Giles stopped talking.

Xander was still feverish. He knew he had to be, because that was the only explanation for why he was kind of turned on knowing that Spike and Giles had been sitting right here, looking at him, naked. That they'd... Xander could picture them both, and even despite the fact that he was sick and exhausted, his body responded to the mental image of the two of them together.

"You didn't," he repeated, and Giles confirmed it with a miserable nod of his head. "Okay, well, that's good." Possibly it was good because he'd have hated to have missed it, but maybe this wasn't the right time to add that.

Then again, maybe it was.

Xander reached for Giles' hand, taking it in his own and pressing it over his swelling cock, wanting Giles to understand and not sure how else to explain it. He was naked under the thin sheet, and he drew a shivering breath as he pushed his hips up, rubbing his growing erection against Giles' palm. "There, see?" Xander said. "That's... God. When I think about the two of you together, it's..." He groaned when Giles' fingers traced his length under the cotton sheet, not letting go of Giles' wrist because he didn't want this to stop.

"That's how it was for us," Giles said, curling his fingers around Xander's cock. "Seeing you. And when you told me about you and Spike, I was hurt and angry at first, but I had all day to work it out, and it wasn't because of what you did as much as the fact that I wasn't included." Giles frowned, sliding his hand up and down almost absentmindedly, Xander thought, concentrating on his thoughts, not his actions. And, because he was Giles, still managing to do a good job of bringing Xander to the point where he wanted the sheet out of the way. "Does that make any sense?" Giles asked. He shook his head. "I really can't believe you're not furious with me. You have every right to be, you know." He huffed, sounding a little indignant. "And with Spike, who seems to have done a wonderful job of disrupting our lives, as per bloody usual."

"Maybe I just don't have the energy to be furious," Xander said. It was a reasonable enough suggestion, he thought, even if he doubted it was true. Giles' hand kept moving slowly, so Xander let go of Giles' wrist and slid his hand up Giles' arm. "I like him," he said. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I didn't want our life disrupted either; I liked it the way it was. But this feels okay, too." He didn't know if he was talking about Spike or what Giles was doing with his hand.

Giles leaned forward and kissed Xander, which was way better than talking, because Giles was kissing him just like he always did, making Xander feel safe after hours of worrying. If Giles could kiss him like this, he still loved him, and no matter what he -- and Giles -- felt for Spike, which Xander hadn't figured out yet, this mattered. He had to know Giles was there for him or nothing else would be right.

And Giles was. Xander lay back and let Giles draw the sheet away, the cool air touching him in a barely-there caress, with Giles' hand warm and hard against him a moment later.

He was feverish and he ached, but with Giles touching him, Xander didn't care as much. He closed his eyes and pictured Giles the way he looked with his head thrown back, cock buried deep inside Xander. He moaned softly. He wasn't sure he could come, but he didn't care about that, either. This was more about comfort and reassurance, Giles showing him that things were going to be okay. Xander whimpered and shifted restlessly.

"Shh," Giles said. "Be still."

Xander tried to obey, he really did, but he couldn't quite manage it. All his muscles ached, and he rolled toward Giles again, curling up on his side. "I hate this," he said, knowing that Giles would understand that he meant being sick.

Giles slipped from the chair to his knees beside the bed, with a comforting pat against an erection that Xander knew was already flagging, the arousal having been mostly in his head. The spirit had been willing, but his flesh wasn't weak as much as tormented.

Positioned like this, Giles could kiss him again, and he did, soft kisses that asked for nothing in return, so that Xander could lie there and feel those warm lips on his without needing to do more than that.

"You'll feel better tomorrow," Giles said with a certainty that should have been irritating, given how very far from well Xander felt right then, but somehow, when Giles pulled back and smiled at him lovingly, it became something to hold on to.

"Promise?" Xander asked.

"Yes," Giles said. "Now if you're quite sure you don't want to use what little energy you have in punching me, I think we should concentrate on achieving that goal, don't you? So sit up and try to eat something."

"Okay." Xander let Giles help him to a sitting position with a pillow jammed between him and the headboard and looked without much interest at the soup and sandwich and juice on the tray. He wasn't hungry, but he knew Giles was right that he'd feel better sooner if he ate, so he was determined to do what he could.

As he looked up at Giles, Xander realized that he'd do whatever he could for him, too.

*****

On the couch the next day with a totally unnecessary but made-Giles-happy blanket around him, Xander sighed and clicked the remote again. He didn't know why he bothered. There was never anything on.

Giles had gone off to the office for the afternoon; he'd said more than once that he didn't absolutely _have_ to go, and that if Xander wanted him to stay home he would, but Xander had rolled his eyes and insisted he'd be fine. It was only a few hours, and Spike was there in case anything happened, which it wouldn't, because after two days on the medication Xander was well on his way to recovery. The worst of the aches and fever were gone -- at this point he was mostly just kind of tired.

The awkwardness of the whole situation had faded into a mutual, if unspoken, agreement not to talk about it, but Xander knew that now that he was well again things were going to have to be said.

He didn't know if he was looking forward to that or not, but anything was better than another day of watching Spike be studiously polite, and Giles withdrawn and edgy whenever Spike was around.

Spike had gone to his room as soon as Giles had left, and Xander guessed he planned to stay there, but what would that solve? Taking a deep breath, he yelled, "Spike! Come here, will you?"

Spike appeared in the doorway, looking as tired as Xander, a frown furrowing his forehead. "What?" he said, without crossing the threshold, not meeting Xander's eyes. "You need a drink or something?"

"No -- I'm bored. Come talk to me." Xander didn't think Spike would go for it, not really. He figured Spike would make some excuse and go back to his room. So he was surprised when Spike hesitated, then nodded and came into the living room, sitting down in the chair that was as far away from Xander as possible and glancing up at him warily.

Xander shut off the TV and set the remote on the cushion beside him. After a minute, Spike said, "Maybe I should get you something to read. A book? Could run down to the corner shop and get you some magazines?"

"Nah," Xander said, shaking his head. Then, watching Spike, "Giles told me what happened the other night."

He could see the relief on Spike's face, then wariness set in. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Spike stared at him in silence, and then shook his head, the ghost of a smile crossing his face. "This the bit where you ask me what the hell I thought I was doing? Because I'll save you the trouble; I don't know. It wasn't planned, any more than what happened with us was. Heat of the moment and all that." He sighed and sat back in his chair, looking contemplative. "You angry with me? With him?" he asked.

Xander shook his head again. "No. I was... I don't know, kind of sidelined for a little while. But I've had lots of time to think the past couple of days." He looked down at his hands. "And it's not like I can't see the attraction."

"Don't say that!" Spike growled.

Xander glanced at him in surprise, to find his face flushed with determination -- and how weird was it still to see color and warmth in Spike's skin, changing him subtly from alien to accessible?

"It isn't that I'm not flattered," Spike went on, his face softening a little, "and it's not that it isn't mutual –" Xander shivered as Spike's gaze flickered over him yearningly, "but you and Giles, you've got a good thing going here, and you don't want to fuck that up."

"No, I don't," Xander said. He didn't, obviously. He only wished it was that simple. That it was easy to turn away from Spike and pretend like there wasn't something there between them.

"Well then," Spike said. "Looks like that's settled then." He hesitated. "Giles -- does he want me to go? Because I will if it's best."

"I don't know," Xander said honestly. Giles hadn't mentioned it since Sunday; somehow, it had ended up on the list of things none of them were talking about. He hated that there were things they weren't talking about. "I mean... I guess you're not gonna want to stay. Right?" He looked at Spike.

"Not if I'm not wanted," Spike replied. "Had enough of that with Angel." He looked desperately lonely and proud; not a good combination as Xander knew only too well. "I never meant to –" His face twisted. "I can't do anything right, can I?" he said bitterly. "You two give me a place to stay, a job, and I go and – " He stood up suddenly. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Xander said, sitting forward. "It's not your fault. It just... happened." He wasn't sure how else to explain it. He wasn't sure he understood it, himself. "Look... promise me you won't go without saying anything."

Spike shrugged. "Yeah... see how it goes. Not like I've got anywhere to go, so you might be stuck with me for a while longer." He glanced at Xander. "You want anything? Because I didn't get much sleep last night and I might try to make up for it now."

That reminded Xander that yes, Spike actually was human now, and needed sleep, and that made him feel guilty. "I'm okay," he said, which was a lie, but it wasn't like he needed anything he could put his finger on; whatever it was he needed didn't seem to be something physical that Spike could get for him like a glass of water or a snack. "Go ahead and get some sleep. I'll be fine."

The day passed by with Xander counting down the hours until Giles got back and he had someone to talk to. Spike had emerged from his room after a few hours, not looking any more rested, and started to do some translation work at the kitchen table. Xander could hear the rustle of paper and Spike muttering to himself in a steadily more frustrated voice, and decided not to go and keep him company.

He slept instead, waking from a doze to blink up at Giles, who was standing beside him looking cautious and hesitant, as if he wasn't sure what to do next.

"I didn't mean to wake you," Giles said apologetically.

Xander yawned and stretched a hand out to Giles. "S'okay. I'm glad you did. C'mere." He closed his fingers around Giles' and pulled the other man down onto the couch beside him, wanting the contact. Needing it. "How was work?"

Giles was perched sideways on the edge of the couch, his back stiff, but when Xander kept hold of his hand, rubbing his thumb across Giles' knuckles, he relaxed and leaned forward, giving Xander a warm kiss. "Do you really want to know?" he asked, pulling back just far enough for Xander to be able to see the smile on his face. "Or can we pretend I bored you with an account of my day and move on to the part where I forget work exists for a few hours?"

"Okay, but only if you _actually_ come sit with me," Xander said, tugging again until Giles moved closer. He put both arms around Giles, his cheek cool and nice against Xander's overly warm forehead. "Missed you."

Giles' arms were tight around him. "You can stop that now," he said with the twist-of-lemon humor it'd taken Xander a while to decode when he'd first met him. "I'm right here." He was sounding contented rather than stressed, which was good. "I might just stay here indefinitely, if that's all right with you."

"Sounds good," Xander said, feeling like everything was okay again. He sighed and closed his eyes.

"Started some dinner," he heard Spike's voice say, and he opened his eyes to see Spike standing in the doorway. "Thought you might... oh. Sorry. Didn't realize... sorry." Before Giles or Xander could say anything, Spike disappeared again.

Xander sighed more deeply and pressed the side of his face to Giles' shoulder.

*****

Giles didn't think he'd ever been so nervous about getting into bed with Xander, not even the first time it'd happened. No, definitely not then, with Xander's panic making his own seem like no more than a mild trace of concern by comparison, and none of it mattering at all in the face of their mutual longing.

Xander was waiting in bed for him, naked and with the sheets barely covering his hips. The day's rest had left him well on the way to being fully recovered, although he hadn't protested when Giles said firmly that work was out of the question the next day and he looked wide awake.

"Are you coming to bed, Giles?" Xander asked, trailing his hand over his bare chest, absentmindedly scratching at an itch before rolling over to put the book he'd been reading on the night table. The sheets fell away as he moved and Giles caught a glimpse of the curve of Xander's backside and the broad expanse of his shoulders.

Wide awake -- and completely and utterly fuckable.

"Yes, in a moment," Giles replied, pretending that he was having trouble undoing the strap of his watch and wondering if Xander knew just what he was doing to him. Well, if he didn't, he would when Giles slipped out of his robe, because he was as hard as he'd ever been.

Just... nervous.

Sighing, Giles snapped off the main light, leaving the room lit only by the lamp beside the bed, and took off his robe, tossing it over the chair in the corner. He watched Xander's gaze travel southward and got into bed rather quickly, pulling the sheets up around him and keeping rather a lot of the king-size mattress between Xander and himself. Xander frowned, his dark eyes asking a question, and Giles gave up any idea of keeping his doubts unspoken.

"I want you," he said, reaching out to take Xander's hand, even that small point of contact enough to make him ache with the need to move closer. "Which can't be news, but I don't want you to feel... we don't have to. I could always sleep in the spare -- in your room. If you're not well, if you're not ready after all that's happened, I promise I'll understand." He gave Xander a reproving look. "Why are you snickering like that when I'm trying to be considerate?"

"It's just nice to know that I can still make you look like this," Xander said, although clearly there was very little _looking_ going on as he freed his hand and slid it down along Giles' body to circle his erection. "Considerate's good. I like considerate. Especially if you're thinking that you're going to be _considerate_ ," Xander's hand squeezed in emphasis, drawing a gasp from Giles, "with this."

"You'll be able to get this reaction out of me for as long as I'm physically capable, I imagine," Giles said dryly, trying to control his voice. Xander's hand on him was robbing him of rational thought. Dropping the casual tone, he moved closer, slipping his arm around Xander and kissing him hard, trapping Xander's hand between their bodies. "God, there isn't a waking moment when you couldn't have me wanting you with a look, or a smile, do you know that?"

Moving with a slow purposefulness, he eased back a little and tilted his hips, thrusting his cock through the tight circle of Xander's hand. "Like I want you now," he whispered, biting down, not too gently, on Xander's lip.

Seemingly reassured, Xander leant forward and kissed him hungrily, warm tongue exploring Giles' mouth while Xander's hand continued to torment Giles' cock with a great deal of expertise. It was startling, Giles thought, how very quickly Xander had learned his body, learned what to do to drive him half mad with desire, to bring him to a shuddering release. "Wanted to do this last night," Xander admitted, bending his head to lick at Giles' throat. "I wish I'd had the energy."

"You seem to have sufficient now," Giles managed to say, turning his head slightly so that Xander could do whatever he wanted, which seemed to consist of flickering his tongue over every sensitive place on Giles' neck, leaving Giles pliant and close to squirming underneath him. "God, Xander –"

Raking his nails fiercely from Xander's shoulders to his arse and getting a moan and a biting, sucking kiss in return that left his neck smarting and tingling, Giles gave himself up to making Xander know how much he was loved, forgetting that they weren't alone in the house, letting himself be as vocal as Xander's mouth and hands demanded.

Xander crawled half on top of Giles and kissed him harder, groaning loudly as his cock skidded across Giles' abdomen and attempting to muffle the sound against Giles' shoulder. The two of them moved together, thrusting erections against each other's bodies, mouths meeting in kisses that were sometimes gentle, sometimes rough and careless.

Giles could feel the moment when Xander went from eager to determined, but even if he hadn't been able to, he would have known by the way Xander's voice changed. The muttered words became a bit louder, the squeaking of the bed more rhythmic as Xander moved faster.

"Want you in me," Giles said, feeling the eager shiver that went through Xander. "Need you to fuck me, Xander. _Please_. Want you to –"

The bedroom door was pushed open forcefully, revealing Spike standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the faint glow of light from the hallway downstairs. "And I want you to keep it fucking down," he snarled. "Christ, like I want to hear you two fucking right above me. You selfish pair of buggers."

Xander and Giles moved apart instinctively, with Xander's dismayed face mirroring the expression Giles was sure was on his own. Spike sounded angry, and Giles might have been moved to anger himself by the intrusion, but Spike's face was twisted with more emotions than simple rage, and even from here Giles could see the shine of tears in his eyes.

"Spike –" he began awkwardly, dragging the sheet up over him and Xander.

"Forget it," Spike said bitterly. "Comes easy to you two, right? Forgetting stuff. People. Yeah. Just forget it –"

He left, slamming the door behind him.

Xander pulled back, moving away from Giles to the other side of the bed, clearly upset. "Shit."

That did a fairly good job of summing it up, Giles thought.

"The worst part is, he's right," Xander continued. "I wasn't thinking about anyone but you, and... I should have been." His eyes met Giles', alarmed. "Not like that. You know what I mean."

"I know exactly what you mean," Giles said a little grimly. And he knew exactly how Spike was feeling, too, because it was the way he'd felt picturing Spike with Xander. Isolated. Unwanted. It had turned out not to be the case, and he'd been so happy about that -- selfishly happy, in fact. "You don't think I feel the same way? I was just so glad to have everything right between us again that I –"

"Forgot Spike," Xander said. "Yeah."

Giles pushed back the covers and got out of bed. "I'm going to talk to him," he said, reaching for his robe. "And you're coming, too. This is something we need to do together, I think." He slipped his arms into his robe and glanced over at Xander. "All three of us."

He waited for Xander to pull on some clothes, then opened the door and went out into the hallway, listening. Just then, the comparative silence was broken by the sound of the CD player in the living room being turned on at quite high volume. He exchanged a glance with Xander as they started for the stairs.

Spike was curled up on one end of the sofa, a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a lit cigarette in the other. He looked up as Giles blocked the light from the hallway coming into the room and quickly put the bottle between his knees, using his now-free hand to rub his knuckles across his eyes. Then, defiantly, he took another drag off the cigarette.

Pushing past Giles, Xander went over to the stereo and turned it down.

"What'd you do that for?" Spike asked sullenly.

"We need to talk to you and I'd rather not have to shout," Giles said. He glanced at the cigarette and what was -- yes, his 18-year old Macallan, dammit -- and managed, with a slight effort, not to comment on either, because he could see the traces of tears in Spike's eyes.

Sitting down beside Spike, turning so that they faced each other, Giles studied him for a moment, seeing the strain in his face, and then sighed. "I'm sorry. There's more to say than that, but it's as good a place to start as any."

"Me, too," Xander offered. He was standing as though he wished he had pockets to put his hands into, shoulders slightly slumped. His posture made him look larger than he was in the small room.

"Don't need to be sorry, though, do you," Spike said, sounding defeated. "Your house, your..." With a shake of his head, Spike took another very long drag off the cigarette. He blew the smoke out along with a sigh. "Guess I ought to be moving on," he said, giving Giles a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Outstayed my welcome."

"I don't think Xander feels that way, and I know I don't," Giles said. "But I do see that what happened between us makes it all very –" He tried to find a word to adequately describe the situation they'd found themselves in and failed. "Awkward?" he said doubtfully.

Spike snorted, stubbing out his cigarette in a small ashtray he'd stolen from the first pub he'd been thrown out of. "Could say that, yeah."

Giles reached out and took the whiskey from him, taking a swig from the bottle with an apology to the shade of his father who'd always made a ceremony out of pouring a careful amount into sparkling crystal. "Bloody awkward," he said firmly, hanging onto the bottle. "Again, I'm sorry. You didn't do or say anything to make me think you wanted that from me -- quite the opposite as you were obviously attracted to Xander -- and I shouldn't have forced myself on you."

He remembered the way Spike had allowed his kisses without returning them at first and cringed inwardly. God, he'd been so concerned about getting Xander to forgive him that he'd neglected to give Spike the apology he deserved. "So very sorry," he said, tightening his grip on the neck of the bottle. He glanced up at Xander, then at Spike again. "That goes for both of you."

"You don't owe me any apologies," Spike said, his gaze meeting Giles' for a moment before skittering away. This wasn't like Spike. Or, at least, not like the Spike Giles thought he knew.

Which, he was realizing, wasn't the Spike sitting beside him. Not really.

"I do," Giles said. "Xander knows how sorry I am... I hope..." He looked at Xander, who nodded, looking dismissive of the apology, frowning as though to tell Giles to get on with it. "But I _do_ owe you an apology as well, Spike."

Spike grabbed the bottle of whiskey back from Giles' hand and surged to his feet. "If I tell you I accept your apology, will you stop whinging on and on about it and leave me be?" he asked bluntly.

Feeling slightly taken aback, Giles nodded. "I'll stop apologizing, certainly, if you're willing to forgive me." He couldn't help adding rather acidly, "I'd hate to bore you both, after all."

"Good," Spike said. "Apology accepted." Which was not, Giles noted, the same as being forgiven. "Now, if you'll let me, I'm gonna go sit out back and drink the rest of this. Slowly, so you two can finish up what I interrupted without me having to listen to it."

"You'll still know what we're doing," Xander said. "And we'll know you know, and –"

"And it won't happen," Giles said with certainty, before Xander progressed any further. "I really couldn't, Spike. Not under those circumstances."

Spike turned in the doorway to the room, leaning on the frame. "You're not seriously telling me you're not going to have sex as long as I'm staying here, are you?" he asked, gesturing in Xander's direction with the bottle. "Oh, unless you're planning to toss me out in the morning. You can do that now, you know. M'not a vampire anymore."

"No, I'm not planning to toss you out in the morning," Giles replied, wondering what on earth he could do to get through to Spike, to prove to him that things were different and that he was _trying._

"Just let it go, Rupert," Spike said quietly, closing his eyes for a second or two with the side of his head supported by the door frame. "I can't do this."

"You don't have to," Xander said, and Spike opened his eyes and looked at him. "Let us help."

"You can't bloody _help!_ " Spike's voice rose. "You think I can just stay here, knowing the two of you are... and I'm..."

"What?" Giles said, standing up. He walked towards Spike, pausing a foot away. "Knowing we're in love? Knowing we're happy? I can see how unbearable that must be, but it's not going to change, and I don't think you really want it to, do you? You don't hate us after all –" He took the bottle out of Spike's hand and placed it down on top of a bookcase beside the door. "You just want what we have, which is perfectly understandable." Spike looked as if he was about to say something, but Giles was determined to get this out into the open. "The question is, do you want it with someone else -- or do you want it with us?"

The eyes Spike raised to meet his were anguished. "Giles... I can't. Don't put me through this. I know I'm horrid to live with and you've both got plenty of reasons to hate me, but don't. It's hard enough knowing I can't have it without you rubbing it in my face."

"I asked you a question," Giles said inflexibly. He heard Xander make a small sound of protest behind him -- close behind him -- but he ignored him. "Has seeing what we have made you want to go out there and find someone of your own -- or do you just want to stay here, with us?" He made his voice gentle. "Please, Spike. Either way we can make this work. I promise you we can. I just need to know."

"No 'we' about it if you're the only one doing the talking," Spike said. His voice was just the tiniest bit shaky as he looked over Giles' shoulder. "Xander?"

"Yeah?" Xander said.

"You in on this? This what you want?"

"The three of us together?" Giles wished Xander sounded more convinced, but at least he sounded willing. That was something. "Yeah, that's what I want."

"What about you?" Spike asked Giles, looking right at him. "That what _you_ want?"

Giles reached behind him and felt Xander's hand slide into his at once as Xander moved beside him. "I asked you a question and I'd like it answered," he said steadily. "You know we both want you -- but I'm still not sure how you feel about me." He realized that he was gripping Xander's hand hard enough that it must be hurting him and tried to relax. "Because this can't work if you want Xander and just tolerate me at best."

"That feel like 'tolerating' to you, the other night?" Spike asked. His tone was light, but he looked utterly serious.

"No," Giles admitted. "But it wasn't me who got you hard; it was Xander." He met Spike's eyes, wondering how they'd got to this point, where nothing was left to hide behind. "I won't be what you put up with to get to him."

"Okay... I've been trying to let you two do the talking, but are you _insane_?" Xander asked. "You don't seriously think that anyone could look at you and not want you, do you?"

Giles was flattered and, admittedly, a bit flustered. "We're not talking about 'anyone'," he said. "We're talking about Spike."

"I'm with him," Spike said, tilting his head toward Xander. "That look you get in your eyes... gets me going every time." He reached out for Giles' free hand and pressed it to the front of his trousers in demonstration of the fact that he was, undeniably, hard.

"Oh God," Giles said, feeling Xander's fingers clutch at his and guessing that all three of them were equally aroused -- he knew he was -- which probably explained Spike's abrupt decision to move from discussion to demonstration. "I don't have the faintest idea what look you're talking about, but you've made your point." He let his fingers stroke along the hard swell of Spike's cock and raised his eyebrow. "More than adequately," he said, trying to hold back a grin and failing when he heard Xander snicker.

Spike shook his head. "Well I can see who's the steadying, mature influence around here," he muttered. "And it's not you, Giles." He glanced between them, still with a shadow of uncertainty in his eyes. "So are we good here? No one's still feeling the urge to apologize for having the good taste to fancy me?"

Giles hadn't thought of how their apologies might have been misinterpreted. "We weren't ashamed of wanting you because it was you, Spike," he said quietly, slipping his arm around Spike's waist. "It just felt like a betrayal of what we had together. It's different now."

"Doesn't get different that fast," Spike protested, although Giles noted that he didn't attempt to pull away from the embrace.

"Maybe sometimes it does," Xander said. "Or maybe we just want it to. Does it matter?"

Spike blinked at Xander in astonishment. "If you turn around tomorrow and change your minds back it will," he said. "And I'll be the one suffering for it."

"You've known us a long time," Giles said. "Long enough to know we're capable of making mistakes. Bad ones. Long enough to know there's no guarantees –" Spike started to tug free of Giles' arm, but Giles held onto him. "And long enough to know that you can trust us, even so," he finished. "You came to us for help. I've lost count of how many times you've done that, or we've turned to you. Have we ever let you down before?"

Spike looked wary still, and Giles sighed. "Oh, come here," he said half-impatiently, kissing Spike without letting himself think about it too much, because if he did he'd start to wonder if Xander would mind, if Spike would step back, if –

But this time there was only the briefest hesitation on Spike's part before he threw himself into the kiss wholeheartedly, parting his lips to encourage Giles to do more. Spike's mouth was warm and tasted of whiskey, and Giles groaned and pulled him closer, feeling Spike's body against his, losing himself in the kiss.

He felt a hand on his arse that was most definitely not Spike's -- it was too familiar -- and he broke away, breathless, to turn his head and look at Xander.

Xander was wide-eyed. "Do it again," he said.

Spike and Giles exchanged amused glances. "I'm glad you enjoyed the show," Giles said, slipping his hand around Xander's neck and leaning in to kiss him with a brevity that didn't stop him becoming even more aroused, because Xander's mouth was so very eager. "But I see you more on stage than in the audience."

"Yeah," Spike said. "And I'd like a kiss from you when you know just who you're kissing." He gave Giles a sidelong look. "Can't imagine he really thought I was you, though."

"I did!" Xander protested.

Spike lifted a skeptical eyebrow, and then grinned. "We're both good," he said, running his hand up Giles' back casually and leaving Giles wondering what it would feel like to have that hand on his skin again. "But it'd be nice if you could tell us apart in the dark."

"I was asleep," Xander muttered, but Spike stopped any further protest with a kiss that would have had Giles hard and wanting in the first few seconds if he hadn't already been. Xander made a small sound of surprise and need, his hand coming up to grab onto Spike's hair in what seemed to Giles a rather dominant manner.

When they broke apart, Spike was gasping. "Like it better when you know it's me," he admitted grudgingly.

"Good," Xander said, his hand still tangled in Spike's hair. "So do I." He glanced at Giles. "Are we going to go back to bed now?" he asked plaintively. "Still recovering, you know. All this standing around has to be bad for me, not to mention being this hard, for this long."

"I think we're all suffering from a similar complaint," Giles murmured.

"I'm not complaining," Spike said promptly.

"You complain about everything else," Xander said, but he was smiling at Spike.

"Lot to complain about around here," Spike said.

Xander attempted to look affronted. "Hey, if you don't like it..."

"Right, that's enough," Giles said. "Upstairs with the both of you."

He'd have been gratified by the speed at which they obeyed him if it wasn't obvious that it was less a recognition of his authority -- and he wasn't even going to consider Spike's claim to be the most responsible one in the house -- and more down to the need for more than kisses. A need he shared, of course.

It was odd to walk back into the bedroom and find the lamp still burning and the bed covers still rumpled. It felt as if hours had passed since he and Xander had been in that bed, so close to each other, with Spike listening, miserable and frustrated. Spike swallowed, hesitating, staring at the bed.

"I -- this is your place-"

"It's going to be fine," Giles said brushing a soft kiss across Spike's mouth. "At least it will be when you two are wearing less. Xander, get undressed again, please."

"Is he always this bossy?" Spike asked Xander, who grinned and didn't reply.

Giles walked to the bed and pushed the pillows up. "I don't think Xander minds being told to undress, Spike." He shrugged out of his robe and got onto the bed, leaning back against the pillows. "And I _did_ say 'please'."

He was aware of Spike's eyes on him, but when he began to watch Spike he could see that Spike was mesmerized by the sight of Xander slowly removing his clothes. First the T-shirt, up and over the head, revealing a toned upper body and tight, pale pink nipples. Then the soft sleep trousers pulled down over hips that Giles loved to grab hold of while thrusting deep into Xander's warm, welcoming body...

Giles swallowed and fixed his eyes on Spike again as Xander kicked off the pants.

"Now Spike's," Giles said. Both of them looked at him, so he clarified, "Xander, please undress Spike."

He could see the exact moment when Xander got turned on by the idea of that, and it was about a second after Giles had finished speaking. Filing that away to think about later, Giles gave into temptation and reached down to stroke his hand across his cock, shuddering less from the light, expected touch than the swift pass of Spike's tongue over his lips as Xander smiled at him.

Xander started at the top, holding Spike's gaze as he hooked his thumbs under the hem of Spike's T-shirt and slowly pushed his hands up, taking the thin material with them, baring Spike's stomach. Giles could remember running his hands over that flat, muscled skin and even the memory was enough to make him move his hand away from his cock, because he really didn't want this to be over quite _that_ quickly.

Xander eased Spike's arms out of his T-shirt, one at a time, and then gave into temptation himself, kissing Spike, not on the mouth, but on his stomach, sliding down to his knees to do it and dragging his mouth slowly across the taut skin.

Giles bit down on his lip at about the same time Spike muttered, "Fuck, Xander, _please_ ," sounding close to desperate. Giles didn't blame him. He could imagine – he _knew_ \- just how that felt.

He was certain that the first thing Xander would do upon unzipping Spike's jeans would be to lick Spike's cock, and from the trembling groan that escaped Spike he surely thought so as well. But Xander didn't do anything that Giles hadn't specifically told him to do -- he eased Spike's jeans down over his hips, exposing Spike's swollen, upright cock, and helping Spike step out of them, then turned back to Giles expectantly as Spike's hand settled on his dark hair.

"Taste him," Giles said, keeping his voice level with an effort, as Spike gave him an imploring look, his blue eyes dark with need. "Just for a moment, and then come and kiss me." He stared at Spike and smiled. "Both of you."

Xander nodded, and Giles was left to choose between watching Xander's tongue lap slowly across the head of Spike's cock before he took it between his lips, or concentrating on Spike's reaction as he threw back his head, jaw clenched, his hand dropping to Xander's shoulder. He'd watched his own cock slide into Xander's mouth and enjoyed the sight, because if ever Xander looked wanton it was then, eyes half-closed in pleasure, lips forced wide and open, but there was something so erotic about what Giles was watching now that he was spellbound.

They were beautiful together, he thought without envy, admiring them without bothering to glance down at his own body, still strong, but which really didn't compare to theirs in his eyes.

Xander pulled back, looking unsurprisingly slightly reluctant, Giles thought, and reached up to take Spike's hand, letting Spike help him up and keeping hold of Spike's hand as they walked over to the bed.

Xander bent to kiss Giles first, the press of his lips as familiar and eager as always. Giles grabbed onto the back of Xander's neck and sat up, exploring the inside of Xander's mouth with his tongue and only finding the faintest hint of anything unusual there.

He felt cautious fingers touch his thigh just above the knee, then they ran up along his inner thigh. "Can I touch?" Spike asked.

The fact that Spike was asking for permission did things to Giles that his body responded to fiercely.

"Not until you've kissed me," he said, sternly repressing the urge to say, 'yes, please'.

Spike gave him a thoughtful look, and then smiled unexpectedly. "Sure. Where?"

Giles opened his mouth, although he wasn't quite sure what he was going to say to that, because it redefined 'spoiled for choice', but Xander beat him to it. "He likes this –"

Giles let Xander push him back down and moaned as Xander's tongue teased his nipple hard enough to be caught between Xander's teeth and sucked.

"Right..." Spike murmured, sounding eager as he moved to copy Xander. Giles concentrated on breathing, which was about all he felt capable of, wrapping his arms around their shoulders and running his hands over their backs, feeling the subtle difference in skin texture.

Spike's mouth was far from tentative, reminding Giles that however unsure Spike might be about some things now he was human again, he still had well over a century of experience to fall back on when it came to sex.

"I think you can touch me now, if you like," Giles said, aware that his voice sounded husky.

"Good," Spike murmured, breath warm against his chest, and a moment later Giles felt strong fingers curl around his erection.

"You do that," Xander said, clearly speaking to Spike. "And I'll do this." He moved up, lips finding Giles' while his finger toyed playfully with one nipple. Then a hot mouth closed around Giles' cock and he gasped into Xander's kiss, his body arching at the combined sensations that weren't possible without more than one lover.

"Tastes good, too," Spike said, sliding lower and licking at Giles' balls, then taking one into his mouth gently and sucking at it.

Oh, God.

Giles couldn't reach Spike with his hands and Xander didn't seem keen to break their kiss, but he brought his knee up and rubbed it against Spike's shoulder encouragingly. Xander he _could_ reach, and he took full advantage of that, sliding his hand over the warm body in his arms, and making no secret of the fact that every pass of his hand brought it closer to Xander's cock.

He wrapped his hand around Xander's erection just as Spike moved lower, the tip of his tongue stroking languidly across the entrance to Giles' body, something Xander hadn't done yet and Giles hadn't asked for. With an assurance Giles felt it would take a while to get used to, Spike spread Giles' legs wider and rubbed his thumb across the sensitive skin he'd just awoken, pushing firmly enough that Giles felt the tip of it enter him. Spike's mouth replaced it a moment later, with his tongue moving in fast flickers that left Giles' cock aching.

Xander whimpered as Giles's hand tightened around his cock and began to work it hard, tearing his mouth away and gasping out Giles' name. Then he glanced down to see what Spike was doing to Giles and, even though he wasn't able to see much, Giles supposed he'd figured it out by the way his eyes widened.

"Touch me," Giles begged, taking Xander's hand and moving it down to his cock. "Hard. God, _please_ , Xander." Then Spike's tongue slipped inside him and he cried out as he came, with a release all the more powerful for being so long delayed.

Xander's hand encouraged him, stripping every last ripple of sensation from him until he gave a little whimper as it went from too much to _really_ too much. Xander knew him well enough to let go then, although Giles still had his own fingers wrapped a bit clumsily around Xander's still-erect cock.

Gasping and heaving for air, Giles barely noticed that Spike had left the bed and disappeared into the bathroom until he heard the sound of running water. A few moments later Spike was back, flopping down onto the mattress beside Giles and running a slightly damp hand up and down Giles' chest. "Good?" Spike asked.

Giles laughed, but the sound was fairly pitiful considering he still hadn't caught his breath completely. "Extraordinary," he said.

Spike looked pleased, bending to kiss Giles, and then looking over him to Xander on Giles' other side. His hand reached across over Giles' stomach and his fingers joined Giles' on Xander's cock. It was even _more_ awkward like that, but from the expression on Xander's face, it was still appreciated.

"Looks like it's your turn, Xander," Spike said, eying him both speculatively and admiringly. "What do you want to do with this then?"

Giles realized, with an entirely pleasurable shock, that although the logistics of this might take a bit of getting used to, the benefits were going to be considerable. He'd never worried too much about being at an age where Xander's ability to respond with an apparently unflagging erection outstripped his own; he was certainly as eager to make love as Xander, and it wasn't as if that was all they could do... but the slight concern he'd felt vanished now. And not just sex... Spike would be happy to go to all manner of clubs and pubs that left Giles feeling ancient just thinking about –-

"I want to fuck you with it," Xander said, pushing their hands away gently and kneeling up on the bed. He gave Giles a look that brought Giles' wandering thoughts back to the here and now and seemed to be waiting for his reaction.

Giles didn't have to think about it at all. If anything had been needed to make him trust that what they were doing was right, it was his instinctive reaction to Xander's proposal which held no jealousy or doubt, simply an anticipation that left his satiated body greedy for more. "God, yes," he said fervently, preparing to move out of their way, possibly even off the bed.

"But no taking turns, or just watching," Xander said firmly, reaching out and grabbing Giles' wrist. "You see anything you want to do to either of us, Giles, you join in. Got it?"

"I take it back," Spike said. " _He's_ the bossy one."

"Shut up," Xander said, pointing a finger at Spike and apparently failing to notice that another part of his body was also pointing directly at him.

"Gonna make me?" Spike asked, grinning.

"If I have to." Xander clambered over Giles and tackled Spike down onto the mattress, driving a startled _oomph_ from Spike that was quickly stifled by Xander's mouth on Spike's.

Shifting over, Giles rolled onto his side to face them, desire burning low in his belly although the flesh was, at that moment, at least, rather weak. Still, he couldn't resist reaching out and running a hand down along Xander's back and over the curve of his arse, watching eagerly as Xander and Spike kissed.

Xander seemed to be doing an excellent job of silencing Spike, he thought -- as long as moans didn't count, anyway.

He was expecting to feel perhaps a little left out, a little awkward; prepared for it, in fact; but it never happened. The two of them were absorbed in kissing each other -- and he'd been on the receiving end of a kiss from both of them and knew exactly how easy it was to get lost in Xander's enthusiasm and Spike's single-minded concentration -- but Xander was arching up against Giles's gently caressing hand and Spike, who had his arms and legs wrapped around Xander, slid his hand down Xander's back and linked his fingers with Giles' for long enough to make Giles smile.

It occurred to Giles that there was one thing he could do to make himself useful. Rolling onto his stomach, he stretched out his hand and eased open the top drawer of the night table, his fingers closing around the bottle of lube after a short search. He felt the bed shift, but didn't realize that Xander and Spike had stopped kissing until he heard Spike say, "You know, before you start to put that to good use, is anyone going to tell me if your arse is out of bounds, Giles? Because we can play this anyway you like, but a chance at fucking you is going on my Christmas list if it is."

Giles turned his head and saw that they were both staring at him, Spike still on his back and Xander propped up on his elbows. Well, they were staring at one part of him, anyway.

"It's not at all out of bounds," he said mildly, letting his gaze travel over them in turn, and deciding that they both looked more than ready to move past kissing. "But generally –" He hesitated, not entirely comfortable with speaking for Xander or sharing details of what they'd done in the past, however much he approved of Spike asking. And yes, he felt flattered by Spike's request, and intrigued, too. It wasn't that he'd ever discouraged Xander from fucking him, and they'd certainly enjoyed the times that Xander had taken control of their lovemaking, but there'd always been a slight hesitancy and generally, Giles supposed, he'd been the one on top.

Somehow he didn't think it was going to be that way with Spike and Xander, which was interesting.

And the thought of being fucked by Spike, whom he sensed wouldn't be in the least hesitant, was enough to make Giles feel a far from faint throb in his cock even as he glanced appealingly at Xander.

"What are you looking at me for?" Xander asked, shifting his weight. Spike made a small sound and arched underneath Xander, and Xander closed his eyes for a moment.

Giles couldn't see exactly what they were doing, but he could tell that it felt good, and seeing the both of them like that when they'd made him come so hard he'd seen stars only minutes before was so incredible that for a few seconds Giles forgot there was a question he was meant to be answering. "It's not up to me. Or rather, it's not up to _just_ me."

"Assuming it's all right for Xander to fuck _me_ , can we talk about the rules after?" Spike asked, writhing against Xander.

"Yes," Xander said. It took Giles a moment to realize that this _was_ an answer to his question. "Yes, it's okay with me if Spike fucks you." He moved off Spike and to the other side, leaving Spike next to Giles in a sprawled, wanton position, legs spread, cock stiff and eager against his belly. "Want to help?" Xander asked Giles brightly, then bent to kiss Spike, one hand on Spike's inner thigh to spread him open further, making it very clear what he wanted Giles to do.

And, of course, Giles was more than happy to do it. He squeezed some lubricant onto his fingers and teased at Spike's balls until Spike gave a wriggle that surely meant 'get on with it,' then took a bit more lube and rubbed his slippery fingertips over the tight, warm entrance to Spike's body.

Spike's moan as Giles' finger slipped inside him was heartfelt, but Giles smiled at him, keeping his movements slow and deliberate.

"Can get on with it, you know," Spike panted when Giles showed no signs of speeding up, two fingers moving in leisurely thrusts inside him. "Done this before."

"Since you became human?" Giles asked.

Xander looked down at Spike, his expression strangely possessive, lifting a dark eyebrow.

Spike shook his head, less in reply than in a restless fever of impatience. "No... shouldn't matter... Giles! Fuck!"

Xander pressed his hand against Spike's lips. "Stop it. Giles knows what he's doing."

Spike rolled his eyes and bit down hard on Xander's fingers, glaring at him. Xander yelped, returning the glare, but any annoyance he felt –- and somehow Giles, watching them both with a private grin, didn't think there was much –- disappeared when Spike snaked out his tongue, lapping at the fingers he'd bitten until Xander pushed two inside Spike's mouth.

Watching Spike suck and lick at Xander's fingers, still using his teeth if Xander's hissed intakes of breath were any indication, was distracting, but the heat of Spike's body clutching at Giles' slicked-up fingers was equally so. Deciding that Spike was as ready as he'd ever be, Giles reached forward and put the bottle of lubricant into Xander's free hand.

Xander pulled his fingers out of Spike's mouth, smiled and picked up Spike's hand, turning it over and squeezing some of the clear liquid from the bottle into Spike's palm. "You do it," he said. "I want to feel your hand on me."

Spike did as ordered, half sitting awkwardly and wrapping his hand around Xander's erection as Giles took advantage of the situation and stroked Spike's cock at the same time.

" _Fuck,_ " Spike said in a low voice. "Xander..."

Apparently that was enough to shake Xander's control, and he quickly rearranged them, pushing Spike's knees up to his chest and lining up his cock, pressing forward with what, from Spike's expression and hiss of pain, was rather too much eagerness.

"God, Spike," Xander said, leaning down to kiss Spike, muffling the noises he was making as Xander slid deeper, more slowly now. "Sorry."

Spike shook his head. "S'okay. Fuck, Xander. Yeah, like that. Fuck me."

Xander groaned and pulled back, clearly doing his best to be careful now. He eased up into a kneeling position, both hands on Spike's arse as it lifted up off the mattress and he thrust in again with a circling motion of his hips that made Giles hard just watching it. In that position, Spike's cock lay tight against his belly, begging to be touched.

When Giles reached out and stroked Spike's cock, just once, Spike cried out, arching his back, trembling. "Giles... God, yeah. Touch me. God, so close..."

"Not yet," Xander told Spike, his own face showing that he was fighting to keep control. Xander was breathing in shallow, fast pants, his teeth digging into his lip. "Kiss him, Giles? Please? Want to see you kiss him."

It was odd to hear the subtle shift in Xander's voice when he went from talking to Spike to talking to Giles: commanding to pleading in a single breath, in fact. Giles moved up to the head of the bed, ignoring Spike's fervently muttered, "Bastard," making sure that he was lying at an angle across the bed so that he didn't block Xander's view of Spike's body. Spike turned his head, his intensely blue eyes wild, and Giles kissed him, their mouths meeting and clinging, the only point of contact between them. Spike's tongue was against Giles' at once, demanding and desperate, encouraging Giles to kiss him harder.

"You two -- God -" Xander said hoarsely, staring at them. He somehow found a rhythm between one thrust and the next, fucking Spike with a new-found assurance he'd never shown with Giles, until Spike broke the kiss and cried out, clearly at the point where his climax was imminent whether he was being touched or not.

"Xander," Spike said, eyes wide and locked on the man fucking him. "Xan, _God,_ fuck, yeah." His breathing hitched, every line of his body suddenly tightening and the expression on his face one of pained pleasure. "Gonna..."

And Spike came, shuddering, crying out again when Giles reached a hand out to encircle his twitching cock and stroke it fast and hard.

There was something to be said for watching, Giles thought, feeling aroused, God, yes, but still capable of observing, unlike Spike, whose eyes had closed as Giles' hand gripped him and who was making soft, inarticulate sounds of pleasure, his body moving in a sensuous wriggle that drew a long groan from Xander.

But it was the chance to see Xander come that had Giles catching his breath in anticipation, because usually he was too wrapped up in what was happening to him to be able to pay close attention. He could now. Xander's dark hair, long enough to be clinging damply to his neck, framed his face without hiding it, and with his body locked in the same spasm that had left Spike wordless and spent, he looked, well, glorious.

Xander's hips surged forward one final time, burying him as deep in Spike's body as he could go as the last of his release wracked him. He gave a shudder, and then gasped in a lungful of air while collapsing down onto Spike, managing to catch most of his weight on his forearms. "Spike..." Their mouths found each other in a shaky, desperate-looking kiss.

Giles lay back and stared up at the ceiling, feeling as drained as they looked, sudden tiredness blurring his eyes.

"Giles?" Xander sounded a little concerned. "Are you okay?"

He turned his head and found them watching him, identical anxious frowns on their faces. He smiled at them, hoping it came over as reassuring. "Oh, yes. Just a little –"

"Freaked?" Spike suggested, turning onto his side to face Giles as Xander eased out of him.

"I don't get freaked," Giles said firmly. "Ever. Overwhelmed, confused and lost for words on occasion, but never freaked. Kindly bear that in mind."

Spike grinned and wriggled close enough to kiss him. "Yeah, you're freaked. Can't blame you."

Giles returned the kiss, making it gentle. "I'm feeling too happy for that. Really." He looked from Spike to Xander. "Go and clean up?" he suggested, trying not to yawn. "Before I fall asleep?"

"Mm. Sounds good." Xander struggled to his feet and looked down at his softening erection. "Come on, everybody up. If we don't change these sheets, we're going to be stuck to them in the morning."

Spike did get up, glancing from the bed to the door and rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. "Right. Well... guess I'll see you tomorrow."

"If that's an attempt to get out of helping to remake the bed, it failed miserably," Giles said, standing up, still feeling the after effects of his climax and wondering if he could manage to stagger to the bathroom, let alone dig out fresh sheets. His head cleared after a moment and he gave Spike a quizzical look, seeing how tense he looked. "You're not seriously suggesting that you go and sleep downstairs, are you? If the bed's big enough for what we just did, I think it's big enough for us all to sleep in."

"Yeah, except if you want to stay you have to help get these off," Xander said, struggling to free the bottom corner of the sheet.

Spike moved to help automatically, although Giles wasn't convinced that Spike had really heard anything either he or Xander had said. "Go get washed up, I'll do this," Spike said gruffly.

Xander frowned at him. "Or we could finish this, and then you could come shower with us."

Pulling the sheet free, Spike stood up, wadding the fabric into a loose ball in his hands. "You sure that's what you want?"

"Yes," said Giles. "Except the shower definitely isn't big enough for three. But you're sleeping with us, Spike. Although the way Xander steals the covers, kicks, and snores, I can't blame you for preferring solitude."

"All right. If he gets too annoying, I'll just tip him out onto the floor," Spike said, offering Giles a cocky grin that might have been put on.

"If you push me out of bed, you'll regret it," Xander said, crossing the room to the chest of drawers where the clean sheets were kept and taking out a fresh set.

Spike seemed to relax further. "Oh no, Harris is threatening me. I'm shaking in my boots." He glanced down at his bare feet. "Well, I would be if I were wearing any."

Handing the opposite edge of the fitted sheet to Spike, Xander began to tuck it under the mattress. "Hey, I'm well versed in the art of practical jokes. You don't want to get on my bad side."

"Which side's that?" Spike asked, eyeing Xander appreciatively. "Don't think I noticed a bad side. It all looks good to me."

Xander looked at him, his face showing a sudden vulnerability at the compliment that Giles found rather touching. "Thanks," he said simply, straightening. "Want to put the pillows back, Giles?"

Giles looked at the four pillows he and Xander usually used, and then replaced three at the head of the bed, spreading them out so they each had one. He gave them both a smile and moved casually towards the door. "Looks as if you two have this little task well in hand, so you won't mind me taking the first shower."

He left before they had chance to protest, intending to make the shower a quick one, but needing a moment alone to gather his thoughts. When he reached the bathroom, he stared at himself in the mirror, seeing nothing that would explain why the two he'd left behind would be interested in him, but grinning unselfconsciously at the sleepy, well-fucked look in his eyes.

"Old fool," he muttered, still grinning as he stepped under the hot spray.

Xander was waiting for him when he came out, leaning against the wall.

"Spike?" Giles asked.

"He went to use the one downstairs," Xander said. "Don't worry; he's coming back up. I think he just wanted some space."

Giles picked up a towel and began to dry himself. "I can understand that," he said. He finished toweling himself dry and walked over to Xander. "I love you," he said quietly, needing to say it, needing Xander to know it beyond any shadow of doubt. "So very much."

"I know," Xander said, meeting Giles' gaze for only a moment before glancing down. "This is... is this okay?"

Giles cupped Xander's chin in his hand, gently tilting his head up. Xander stood very still, his face unreadable to Giles. "It happened very fast," Giles said, hearing the shower running downstairs and feeling relieved that he and Xander had this chance to talk alone. "Too fast? Possibly, but yes, it feels right. I can't explain why. It just does. I can't pretend I don't have concerns, but we've all been through so much that they seem small in comparison." He kissed Xander, because with him this close, his dark eyes wide, Giles couldn't help himself, and felt Xander move closer as he responded, although he seemed tense, as if he was waiting for something.

"Tell me if there's anything, anything at all about this that troubles you," Giles urged him, needing to know Xander was happy and starting to feel a little worried. Xander couldn't think that he hadn't been enough for Giles, could he? Or had even that short encounter with Spike made Xander wish it was just the two of them?

Biting his lip, Giles stepped back, giving Xander a helpless look. "Please just tell me," he said softly.

Now Xander looked worried. "No, it's okay. Really. I just wanted to make sure it was okay with you. Because I don't... I wasn't sure. You don't think you're going to change your mind?" He asked it as if he weren't quite sure what the question was, himself.

Giles shrugged his shoulders, feeling his age. Guarantees, promises, certainties... he'd learned not to expect them in relationships, but at Xander's age he supposed he'd still thought they existed. "I can't -- I don't know, Xander. It's too soon to say. I don't think so. Believe me, I wouldn't have started this if I wasn't as sure as I could be." He rubbed at his eyes, feeling the strain of the last few days press down on him. "Let's just see how it goes, shall we? But, really, I think this is going to work. I do." He ran his hand down Xander's arm and gripped his hand. "I want it to work," he said.

"Me, too," Xander said, seeming more relaxed. "Don't worry. Maybe it'll take us a little while, but we'll figure it out."

The sound of the shower running downstairs stopped, and Giles nudged Xander's shoulder. "Go on and get cleaned up. I think we could all use a good night's sleep."

Xander nodded and went to shower, and Giles returned to the bedroom. A minute or so later, Spike reappeared in the bedroom doorway, damp hair slicked back and a slightly wary expression on his face as though he weren't sure if his welcome had been rescinded in the brief time he'd been gone.

"Poor Xander's probably going to run out of hot water," Giles said ruefully. He arched his eyebrow at Spike. "If he puts his cold feet on you, please don't scream. I have a feeling I'm going to be asleep about thirty seconds after my head hits the pillow and it'd disturb me."

He went to the bed and got in on the side he usually slept on, and then, without looking at Spike, asked casually, "Are you going to stand there all night or come to bed so that I can take advantage of the twenty seconds of consciousness remaining to me and say goodnight properly?"

Spike hesitated, but after a moment he joined Giles, getting into bed and lying down on his back, but leaving considerably more space between them than Giles would have preferred. Reaching over, Giles used a hand on Spike's far shoulder to roll Spike toward him. "We need to leave room for Xander," he explained, stroking Spike's chest gently.

Spike's eyes still reflected some uncertainty, but he didn't pull away.

"What?" Giles said, sleepiness making him more direct than usual. "Isn't this where you want to be?"

"In between you two?" Spike asked. "Splitting you up?" He sounded worried.

Giles put his arm around Spike and pulled him a little closer. "Or gluing us together?" he suggested with a yawn. "Spike, I'm exhausted, and that's about the best you're going to get out of me tonight. You're with us. That's where we want you to be, remember." He brushed his lips across Spike's in what was less a kiss than reassurance. "Stop being so tactful and considerate," he said drowsily. "It's not like you at all."

"Hey!" Spike said, sounding affronted, but it was clear to Giles that it was an act, because Spike sighed and inched closer still.

The shower stopped running, and a few minutes later a damp, slightly flushed Xander joined them, snuggling up behind Spike and shoving the smaller man more firmly against Giles' body. "Mm," Xander said. "Night." And, clearly feeling that everything was right with the world, promptly went to sleep.

*****

Spike slept better than he had any night since he'd come back human; one second he was closing his eyes, aware of his own breathing, and the next he was waking up, light filtering in through the crack in the window shade. He was too warm, his muscles heavy and stiff with sleep, sweat beaded up on the back of his neck where he could feel Xander's hot exhalations. His own arm was wrapped around Giles' waist, the man's arse cradled in the curve of Spike's pelvis, the three of them neatly spooned together with Spike in the middle.

He wasn't sure whether he should be comforted or disturbed.

Then Xander stirred behind him, the big hand resting on Spike's thigh moving slightly, and Spike felt a wet tongue lick the spot just behind his ear.

The shiver he gave meant that the lick was followed by a soft chuckle and then a kiss that was more of a nuzzle than anything else, with Xander's mouth fitting perfectly into a hollow on Spike's shoulder. Spike was still too drowsy to respond meaningfully -- and too tightly sandwiched to even think about moving -- but he made an encouraging, approving murmur and felt Xander's lips curve in a smile.

They weren't the only things waking up, either. Spike's cock was stirring to life just from the memories of the night before and the promise of more implicit in that warm kiss, and there was something pressed against his backside that told him Xander was in a similar state.

Unthinkingly, his arm tightened around Giles, and then he relaxed and let his hand drift down, fingers crooked so that he was dragging the tips of his fingers, no more, across Giles' stomach.

Giles gave a small, protesting grumble that died away as Spike's light, questing touch brushed over his cock, rousing it within moments.

With his eyes closed, Spike slid his fingers lower, running them over Giles' balls, feeling the skin there tighten as Giles' erection grew. Giles made another sound, softer this time, and pushed his arse back, rubbing it against Spike's cock. Spike groaned and nipped gently at the thin skin over Giles' shoulder blade.

Xander shifted behind him, pressing closer, hard cock sliding damply between Spike's thighs, the head of it bumping Spike's balls and driving a sudden, unexpectedly breathless sob from him. Xander's hand settled on the bonier part of Spike's hip, steadying him, hot mouth exploring Spike's neck.

The warmth of the bodies surrounding him and the soft exhalations that greeted each slow, languid shift of skin on skin were almost enough to lull Spike back to sleep, or allow him to pretend that this was a dream. Almost. Even with his eyes closed, the arousal he felt was too insistent not to be real, even muted as it was by his drowsiness.

Relaxing and refusing to think beyond the moment, or give any thought at all to what had been decided the night before, Spike stroked his fingers along Giles' shaft, barely touching it, teasingly light touches that had Giles' hips pushing forward, mutely begging for more. With a small space between them now, Spike was able to rub his cock gently against the cleft of Giles' arse, the friction enough to have him groaning softly against Giles' back.

He was discovering that one consequence of being in the middle was that anything he did to Giles affected Xander as well; as Spike thrust up slowly along Giles' warm skin, his thighs rubbed against Xander's cock, trapped between them, drawing a moan from Xander.

Spike could feel the imprint of each of Xander's fingers on his hip, Xander's rocking motions growing somehow more intense and needy even though he wasn't moving any faster. Giles' cock was hard beneath Spike's teasing fingertips, and suddenly Giles squirmed in Spike's arms, turning around until their cocks fit side by side and kissing him slowly.

Reaching a hand over Spike's waist, Giles did something -- grabbed onto Xander's ass, maybe -- that made Xander gasp in Spike's ear. "God," Xander whispered, his voice hoarse. "Spike..."

The slide of Xander's cock, slick between Spike's thighs and rubbing his balls with each slow forward push, would have been enough to make Spike beg if he'd been fully awake. Instead, he made a sound suspiciously like a whimper and clung to Giles, accepting the lingering kisses and occasional delve of Giles' tongue into his mouth. He couldn't stay still, had to keep wriggling against Giles and back against Xander.

Giles' kisses were becoming more urgent, although, like Spike and Xander, he seemed content to remain in the half-drowsy state Spike was in, with an arousal unaccompanied by impatience. Spike's cock was hard and there was a pleasant ache of need sending tingles through his body, but he didn't want to rush. This was perfect. He felt safe. Not a feeling he was used to, not something he'd known he wanted, even, but now that he had it –

With a reluctant sigh, Giles broke the kiss and Spike finally opened his eyes, staring at Giles' face, so close that all he really saw were Giles' eyes, half-closed, sleepy and gleaming at him.

Giles rolled Spike gently to his back and leaned over him to kiss Xander, their lips meeting and their eyes sliding closed again. Spike lay beneath them, enjoying the view as the pair of them were definitely playing to their audience, pulling back so that Spike could see their tongues licking and teasing each other, watch the open-mouthed, increasingly fervent kisses...

Reaching out, Spike slid his hands down and wrapped his fingers around Giles and Xander's cocks, smiling as they turned their heads to look at him, their expressions an identical mixture of surprise and pleasure. Xander bit down on his lip as Spike tightened the circle of his left hand and slid it slowly along Xander's cock, repeating the action with his right hand until he saw Giles' eyes close and his jaw tighten.

"Don't stop," Spike said, the words emerging in a murmur as if he'd forgotten how to talk. "And I won't."

Xander's thigh settled over Spike's, then the two of them were kissing again, open-mouthed, putting on a real show for Spike. The sound of their slow, slick kisses made Spike harder as he stroked their cocks with a firm grip, paying attention to each little gasp and twitch.

He felt Giles' hand on his inner thigh, sliding up, and couldn't be bothered to stop him. He considered it for a minute, though. But he _wanted_ to be touched, wanted to feel Giles' fingers wrap around him -- oh fuck yes, like that.

He managed to keep jerking them off for about three seconds, and then Xander's hand came to cup at Spike's balls and Spike lost all semblance of rhythm, pausing, his hands locked tight around their cocks as they worked together to bring him close to spilling.

"Don't stop," Giles said, his lips a bare inch away from Xander's, giving Spike a sidelong, wickedly-amused glance.

"Making it hard to concentrate," Spike said hoarsely as Giles rubbed his thumb across the top of Spike's cock, slippery and exposed. "Oh, fuck, do that again!"

"Perhaps you need a helping hand," Giles said, so solemnly that it took Spike a moment to get that he was joking. Which made him wonder how often Giles hadn't been serious and he'd thought he was... but like this it was easy to pick up on the subtleties of expression and voice, really easy.

Giles kicked back the sheets that were still just about covering them, although by now they were half-way down the bed, and stared down at the tangle of hands. "Let go of me, please, Spike," he said. Regretfully, and with one final pump of his hand, Spike released Giles' cock.

With a quirk of his lips, Giles moved Xander's hand away from Spike's balls and brought it to his own cock, shuddering slightly as Xander's hand closed enthusiastically around it. "God, Xander," he said.

"Sorry," Xander murmured.

"Don't be," Giles said, which was all it took to bring a grin to Xander's face. Giles bent his head and kissed Spike again. "Is that better?"

Spike's hand on Xander, Xander taking care of Giles, Giles seeing to Spike... oh, yeah, that was just fine with him. He nodded and turned his head for his first kiss of the morning from Xander, who made the most of it, leaving Spike trying to catch his breath, tingles chasing and racing over him.

Spike chuckled softly against Xander's lips.

"What?" Xander asked, nipping at Spike's ear.

"Nice way to wake up, is all." Spike's breath caught as Giles' talented hand worked him expertly, the muscles in his calves and thighs tightening. They were all slow, languid, the scent of male sweat and arousal heavy in the air as they moved together. Xander's cock fit into Spike's hand perfectly, large and hard and eager, a young man's cock. Spike remembered how it had felt the night before, having that thick shaft inside him, and he groaned, shuddering on the edge of release.

Giles murmured, "No, not yet." It was quiet, but the authority was unquestionable. Giles' hand moved down to the base of Spike's cock and squeezed.

"Not yet," Xander agreed, although his cock was wet-tipped and slippery in Spike's grip. "God, just a... little bit longer."

Spike's head was moving restlessly against the pillow, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold out, but he was definitely in favor of making this last. They were exchanging glances now, intimate and searching, watching each other react to what was being done to them, their faces close enough to Spike's that he would only have had to crane his neck a little to be able to kiss them. But he didn't need to do even that. As they drew out the inevitable, slowing down the slide of their hands so that Spike was pretty much fucking Giles' hand rather than the other way around, tilting his hips up with increasing desperation, Giles and Xander both took turns kissing him and each other, distracting Spike -- a little -- from the sensations building up in him as his balls tightened and his cock stiffened. He was lost in the feel of them both; warm, strong bodies pressed close, and the very specific feel of Xander's cock against his palm and fingers as he learned what made Xander moan and shift even closer.

"Need to come," he said finally, staring up at Xander, turning to him instinctively for support, the words tumbling out of him. He closed his eyes, feeling a brief stab of shame that out of all of them he was the one with the least control, but he couldn't help it. He groaned, his hips jerking involuntarily, craving a hard, fast finish to this. "Fuck, _please_ –"

Begging them came way too easy, he thought, opening his eyes and hoping they'd see that he was serious.

"We've got you," Giles said, the deep, authoritative rumble of his voice reassuring and exhilarating in one. "Xander..."

And Xander's mouth came down hard on Spike's, the kiss eager and desperate, their skin flushed and Spike's chest heaving as Giles' hand on his cock _squeezed_ and pumped faster as if Giles had been jerking Spike off all his life. _That_ thought startled a laugh out of Spike, and he came, crying out, shuddering in the arms of two men he'd never have imagined feeling this close to as the pleasure wracked through him.

*****

Alone had never been Spike's favorite state, but he'd had time to get used it, and with the translation to work on it took him a while to notice how quiet the house was without the two of them there. Pushing the papers aside, he stood up and snagged a can of soda from the fridge, sipping it as he stared out at the garden.

Nice day. Should make the most of it, he supposed.

Stepping out into the garden and all that sunshine still took a small effort of will, but every time he did, the urge to stick his hand out first, like a child testing the heat of the bathwater, lessened.

Not sure he'd ever feel the need to tan, though. And it really wouldn't go with the hair.

He finished the soda in the garden, along with two cigarettes, and still didn't feel anywhere near understanding what the hell was going on here. Half of him thought that this was some elaborate joke, with the punch line being some variant on the usual 'get out, Spike, we don't want you' riff, but the buildup went far beyond the payoff.

Giles. Xander. Giles _and_ Xander. Holding him, kissing him, fucking him until he was a gasping, shuddering wreck in their arms.

Fuck.

Grinding out his cigarette on the stone path that led through the postage-stamp sized garden, bright with flowers, but in need of weeding, Spike stalked back in, crumpling the thin metal of the can in his fist.

He didn't know how to deal with this. Hostility and anger -- they were easy. You lashed out, you hurt back. He was _good_ at that. He'd scored point after point with Xander those first few days; drawn blood with a dozen sly jabs. That, he could do.

But accept friendship, trust that he was cared for -- no.

And they'd left him here. Giles had gone to his office, Xander to his shop, promising to come back if he felt at all tired... and they'd left him free to rummage through their stuff, dig out all their secrets, prowl and poke around –

Even knowing that he hadn't opened more than the fridge door didn't make Spike feel less like an intruder. He didn't belong here in this tidy, normal little house with this -- well. You couldn't really call them a normal pair. Not when you knew them the way he did. Not when you knew how Xander had lost his eye -- and what put that dangerous glint in Giles' from time to time. No. They weren't your average people and it showed. Xander might not have realized just how scary he looked when he faced down that Robbie git in the pub, and it seemed to have escaped his notice that Spike wasn't the only one shorter and lighter than the muscle-bound lunk. Spike hadn't missed it, though. Robbie had just taken one whiff of the confidence Xander slapped on like aftershave and caved before the punch.

Still didn't mean he belonged with them, even if they were all freaks -- or heroes -- together.

The key in the lock jarred him out of an introspection that was verging on depression and he went to the hall to see who'd come back early.

"Xander?" Before he knew what he was doing, Spike was checking Xander out for signs of illness. Fuck. Knew they shouldn't have let him go back to that bloody shop this soon, breathing in sawdust and fumes... "You not feeling so good, mate?"

"I'm fine," Xander said, shrugging out of his jacket and hanging it up. "Just figured I should, you know, take it easy. First day back and all. I kind of learned my lesson on that one the last time around."

"Yeah?" Spike said.

Kicking off his shoes, Xander said, "Yeah. Did a whole day and ended up needing to stay home the next one because I could barely get out of bed." Spike could picture that, Xander too weak to get up. Seen it himself, hadn't he.

"Maybe you should get off your feet," Spike said.

"I could if you'd move out of the hallway and let me by," Xander said mildly, and Spike felt himself flush.

"Right," he muttered, stepping up onto the stairs to make room. "Sorry."

"It's okay," Xander said. "I was thinking about heating up that leftover pizza from the other night. You want some?"

"What? Oh, sure. I'll do it," Spike offered. "You go and sit down." He thought about the mess he'd left on the kitchen table. "Think Giles would mind if we ate it in the front room? I'm kind of in the middle of something right now and the table's covered in paperwork."

"He's been known to eat in there himself from time to time," Xander said. "That weird yellow splodge on the carpet? Giles, a chicken curry and me -- ah...well, let's just say he wasn't expecting me to walk in wearing nothing but a towel, and then lose the towel when I bent over to pick something up."

Spike couldn't help grinning as he pictured that. "I take it this was before you two were an item?"

"God, yes." Xander gave Spike a stern look. "And no, I didn't do it on purpose."

Spike stared at him, still grinning, and waited.

"Maybe just a little bit," Xander said. "But I'll deny it to my dying day."

"Giles isn't daft," Spike said. "Probably figured it out, you know."

Xander shook his head. "Even so. Towel slipped. End of story." He walked into the front room and sat down a little heavily. "Feed me?" he said plaintively.

"Re-warmed pizza coming up," Spike answered. "Extra gooey."

"Amateur," Xander said. "It's impossible to make leftover pizza extra gooey."

Spike thought Xander's voice sounded just a little bit strained, though, and he quickly got the pizza on a pan and into the oven, then grabbed a glass and filled it with water. Returning to the front room, he found Xander slumped on the couch with his feet up on the table, holding the remote control. "Here," he said, handing Xander the water.

"Thanks." Xander set the remote down unused and sipped at the water. "I'm fine," he said.

"Sure," Spike said.

"No, really. I am."

"Don't look it," Spike retorted, although this close the only visible sign of illness was that Xander looked a little pale. "And the only way you get to move off that sofa is if you decide you need to go to bed and get some sleep." Xander opened his mouth and Spike glared at him, anticipating a protest. "Don't even think about arguing with me." He folded his arms across his chest. "Or I'll call Giles."

That shut Xander up pretty effectively. He drank half his glass of water before setting it down and saying, "I'm just a little bit tired, okay? I came home. What more do you want?"

Taken aback by the question, Spike sat down on the edge of the couch. "Came on a bit strong, didn't I?" he asked ruefully. "Sorry. Just worried about you."

Because he always worried about people he cared about, even if they numbered less than the cigarettes left in his packet of smokes. He'd been looking out for the assorted Scoobies for years now, it seemed, but this was different. With a small amount of resignation mixed in with a surprising warmth, he accepted that Xander and Giles had just joined the list of people he'd consider worth dying for.

Even if this time around he didn't think he'd be coming back.

Xander was looking at him.

"What?" Spike said.

"Nothing," Xander said. "I guess I'm just trying to figure out what's going on in your head."

Spike shrugged. "Not much."

"Looks like there's plenty," Xander said. "But worrying about me doesn't have to be included in it. I'm here, I'm resting and really, I'm –"

"Fine. Yeah. Got that," Spike said. "I'll go and see if I've managed to burn the pizza, shall I?"

Xander rolled his eyes. "Tell me you didn't set the oven to high?"

"Well –" Spike sniffed the slightly smoky air and decided not to waste time defending his cooking ability in the face of the evidence to the contrary.

The pizza turned out to be on the crispy side, but still edible, and Spike carried it on two plates into the front room, setting them down on the coffee table and producing two pieces of paper towel with a flourish. "Napkins."

"Five star service," Xander said admiringly. He leaned over and gave Spike's cheek a quick kiss before stuffing most of a slice of pizza into his mouth. "Thanks," he mumbled through his mouthful of food, settling back and looking about as content as it was possible to be.

Spike watched Xander eat while chewing thoughtfully at his own pizza. He still wasn't convinced that Xander was fine, but it was simple enough to bully him into taking it easy for the rest of the day if it came down to it.

"Stop it," Xander said wearily, leaning his head back against the couch.

"No," Spike said, swallowing. "M'not gonna pretend I don't care when you're sick. If you don't like it, too bad."

Xander blinked at him. "Do you?"

"Do I what?" Spike asked.

"Care about me?"

"Yes," Spike said without thinking about it. "Both of you." He gave his words a moment's consideration as they hung in the air, and then nodded. "Yeah. I care. Nothing new about that, is there?" Xander looked uncertain enough to make Spike feel hurt. "Been saving your arse on patrol for years, Xander, and we weren't even fucking then."

"I thought that was because you felt guilty about Buffy," Xander said, not cruelly, but to Spike it felt like a punch in the gut.

"Lots of misconceptions there, weren't there," Spike said, getting up. He remembered finding out that Red and Xander had been planning to bring Buffy back, but hadn't told him, and he didn't like remembering.

Xander stood up, too. "I didn't mean it like that and you know it. What, we're not allowed to mention her name all of a sudden?"

"Sit down," Spike said. "And no. Mention her all you like. Just don't make out that everything's simple. Wasn't then and it isn't now." He ran his hand over his hair and shook his head. "Especially now." The unreality of it all came crashing down on him, and he stared at Xander helplessly. "What the hell are we doing?" he asked. "You -- him -- Christ, this is insane. You can't want me. You never did before; you just made that really plain."

"I... what? Wait." Xander looked confused. And pale. Important not to leave that part out; important not to forget it. Spike gestured at the couch sternly and Xander sat. "What do you mean, I can't want you?"

"Why do you?" Spike countered. "You've got Giles." And he couldn't let himself think about how lucky Xander was -- how lucky both of them were, until he'd come along and wrecked everything. "And you nearly lost him and it was all my fault," he said, sitting down again because he didn't want Xander to have to crane his neck. "And you expect me to believe that's the time you pick to start fancying me? Doesn't make sense."

"I'm not going to deny that I was a little bit worried for a day or so there, but... me and Giles, that's not something that's going to just end. Not even over you." Xander was watching him earnestly. "And we _both_ wanted you. Want you. We don't..." Suddenly, Xander looked concerned. "You know last night wasn't just a one time thing, right?"

Spike stared down at his knees, rubbing his thumb slowly over denim still too new to be comfortable. "Could be," he said finally. "Wouldn't blame you both." He sighed and lifted his head, meeting Xander's anxious eyes, all dark and wide and vulnerable -- oh _fuck_ that wasn't playing fair -- "Okay, that's a total sodding lie. I'd scream and swear and kick things. Not you," he added hastily. "But -- yeah, I'd mind. But I wouldn't -- I wouldn't be surprised, you know? So if Giles and you have spent the morning talking behind my -– about me, and you've got something to say, then spit it out, will you?"

Xander reached over and put his hand over Spike's on his knee, big and warm. "Pretty much the only conclusions we've come to at this point are that we both want this -- with you -- and that we're not ready for it to be anything but the three of us together. Everything else is still..." He squeezed Spike's hand. "It's not like we were _looking_ for this, you know? But all of a sudden, there you were."

"Yeah," Spike said. "Turning up out of the blue." He risked a small smile through stiff lips. "Didn't plan this, you know. It just happened, and I –" He opted for honesty, because it was no more than Xander deserved. "I didn't want it to stop. You both being nice to me, you both –" He shook his head, holding onto Xander's hand and trying not to grip it too hard. "Going to take a while to get used to it. Being wanted."

And could I sound any more pathetic? he thought savagely, waiting, cringing, for Xander to come out with one of his trademark flip comments by way of reply.

Instead, all Xander did was say, "C'mere," and pull on his hand. Spike went along a bit more willingly than he might have wanted to admit, letting Xander tow him into a comfortable embrace, settled with his back to Xander's chest. "It's okay that this is kind of weird," Xander said. "We'll figure it out. It makes sense that it wouldn't be easy right from the beginning, you know?"

Spike found himself chuckling. "I'd be worried if it was. For you two, anyway. Me, I'm used to sharing –" He broke off, not wanting to think about Drusilla and Angel. Not now. Different life, different Spike. Before Xander could answer, Spike turned just enough to be able to kiss Xander, an awkward, clumsy kiss because of the angle and because he still couldn't get over that tiny thrill of shock at what he was doing.

Kissing Xander. Broad daylight. No magic, no spells, no guilt, no secrets. Just Xander, warm and strong and kissing him back, until the rough edges smoothed out and the kiss gentled into a final brush of Xander's lips against Spike's forehead as they settled back again.

Spike looked down at their linked hands, resting on his chest and relaxed, a smile spreading across his face. "Tell me if your arm goes numb or something," he said lightly, knowing that it'd take more discomfort than that to get him to move, but not wanting Xander to be at all uncomfortable.

"You don't weigh that much," Xander said, sounding amused. Spike could feel each rise and fall of Xander's chest along with his own, and he stroked the edge of his thumb along Xander's slowly until, to his surprise, Xander's hand went gradually limp in his as Xander fell asleep.

Spike didn't want to wake him, but after a little while he eased away a bit and turned, studying Xander's peaceful, sleeping face. Any small lines of tension were gone, dark eyelashes resting against his cheeks, his hair slightly mussed. Looked good like that, Spike thought. Everything about Xander looked good to him, and he was happy to sit there and watch him as long as he could.

After a while, when Xander had stirred just long enough to snuggle down even deeper into the cushions without opening his eyes, Spike stood up reluctantly and went back to the kitchen to carry on working at the translation.

He didn't get a lot done, because he kept coming to the door to check on Xander, but he'd made some progress when he heard the slide of Giles' key in the front door. In the silence of the house it was loud enough to make Spike jump, and he hurried into the hall to stop Giles from calling out a greeting and waking Xander.

Giles came through the door, saw Spike, and smiled, and then blinked in astonishment as Spike rushed towards him to stop the front door from being shut with a slam.

"What's the matter?" Giles said, lowering his voice in response to Spike's frantic shushing.

"Xander's asleep on the couch," Spike told him in a whisper. "Came home at lunchtime, had some food and dozed off."

"Is he feeling ill?" Giles asked, a frown beginning to crease his forehead. "You should have called –"

"No," Spike said hastily, wanting to reassure him. "Don't think so. Just tired, I'd say. He didn't feel hot or anything." Something he thought he saw in Giles' expression made him add, "When I say he didn't feel hot -- I don't mean I touched -- we didn't –"

Giles' hand came up to pat his shoulder, and Spike stopped talking. "If he's been sleeping this long, he'll wake soon, I'd imagine, and be all the better for it." Giles moved in closer and gave Spike a kiss that was probably supposed to be casual, but ended up lasting a second too long for that, and then said, with a smile, "Hello, Spike. How was your day?"

As if Giles had thrown a switch, Spike relaxed. He even leaned in against Giles and kissed him again, letting Giles' body partially support his own. Maybe the hours of being alone in the house while Xander slept had got to him more than he'd realized, because he didn't feel embarrassed about his need for the physical comfort. "It was okay," he said. "How was yours?"

"Fine." Giles shrugged out of his jacket without really moving away and dropped it onto the floor, which was okay with Spike since it meant they could stay where they were. "You're sure he's all right?"

"I think so."

"You've been worrying about him." It wasn't a question. Giles gave Spike a slightly mischievous look. "Has he been snapping at you to leave him alone?"

Spike nodded, realizing that Giles was just as concerned as he was and that Xander didn't stand a chance of overdoing it with both of them there to look out for him. That made him relax even more.

"He does that with me," Giles confided, slipping both his arms around Spike. "I tend to ignore him for the most part, but I suppose if he's going to have both of us fussing over him, he might have cause for complaint." Giles grinned, running his hand over Spike's back and stopping just short of his ass. Even through his T-shirt the teasingly light touch was enough to make Spike press a little closer to him. "Perhaps we can take alternate days?"

"Or even hours," Spike agreed.

There was a muffled sound from the living room, and Spike pulled away from Giles and backtracked to the doorway with Giles following. Xander had turned onto his side on the couch and was resettling himself into a more comfortable position, blinking sleepily at them. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Just after five," Giles replied, crossing the room slowly, Spike noticed, and studying Xander the whole way. He must've been happy with what he saw, because he sat down on the couch and leaned over to kiss Xander by way of hello, without asking how he was.

Xander struggled up to sitting and gave Giles a hug, resting his head against Giles' shoulder much as Spike had. He lifted his head after a moment, gave Giles a smile and another kiss, and then settled back against the couch, his hand linked with Giles', and looked over at Spike.

"You going to come here so I can say sorry for falling asleep on you? Or under you?"

Spike walked over to them, feeling slightly awkward, partly because they were both watching him, partly because of Xander's words, although Giles didn't look at all bothered. He sat down next to Xander, perching on the edge of the couch, and gave him a quick smile. "Nothing to be sorry for. Glad you got some rest."

"Well, yeah, but there could have been, you know, conversation or something," Xander said. He did look better, and he leaned forward and patted Spike's thigh. "So, someone's going to cook dinner for me, right?" he asked hopefully.

Spike looked at Giles.

"You can't keep burning things to get out of cooking forever, you know," Giles warned him.

Spike gasped with pretended hurt. "Not doing it on purpose," he said, which was mostly true. Tilting his head, he gave Giles a speculative look. "But as excuses go, it's good for a few more months, right?"

Xander and Giles shook their head in unison.

"Weeks?" Spike hazarded.

"I'll cook tonight," Giles said sounding firm, "and after that we're taking turns."

"Fine," Spike grumbled. Better to drop the subject, he thought, than get into too much detail about why he was so reluctant to participate in the kitchen, because he really didn't want to talk about it. Giles hadn't said anything to Xander about the incident in Spike's presence, but he didn't have any reason to think the two of them hadn't talked about it in private. He didn't want to think about how that conversation had gone.

He didn't like to think about them talking about him when he wasn't there at all, really.

Giles reached over and took Spike's hand, turning it so that the faint, red line of the cut from the knife was visible and then covering it with his own hand. "I'll help you," he said reassuringly. "And if you both promise to do the dishes afterwards, I might even have a go at Sunday lunch this weekend and introduce you to the wonder that is a Yorkshire Pudding, Xander," he added, giving Spike's hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it.

Undone by the fact that Giles had not only understood exactly what was going through Spike's head, but had reassured him about it without actually saying anything, Spike stood up, brushing his hands against his jeans. "Gonna go straighten up my stuff," he said gruffly, turning and heading for the kitchen where he'd left his papers strewn across the table.

He could hear Xander and Giles talking as he neatened everything into a pile, the sound of their voices familiar enough that this place was beginning to feel like home.

Spike wasn't sure how he felt about that.

*****

Giles glanced over at the clock on the mantelpiece and wondered lazily how much longer he had before the peace of the house was disturbed by the return of a -- probably -- slightly drunken pair, eager to tell him in detail about everything he'd missed by not joining them at the White Horse for a Battle of the Bands evening.

It wasn't that he hadn't wanted to be with them, of course, but there were limits to what he'd endure in the name of entertainment, and overly-cold lager and conversations that consisted of 'What? Can't hear you!' went beyond them. Well beyond.

Besides, having the house to himself was rather nice, if only because it brought home just how much he missed them.

Sipping happily at his whiskey, he turned a page of his book and let his thoughts wander ahead to what the pair of them would do to console him for what they'd consider a lonely, dull evening of solitude. The insistent, sudden ring of the telephone came far enough into his fantasies to have him stammering as he answered it, feeling as flustered as if the caller had walked in to find him lying there on the couch, his hand absently stroking his hardening cock through his pants.

"Yes? H-Hello? This is Rupert Giles." Work, he thought, feeling a mixture of irritation and alarm. It was almost eleven, and it would have to be a real emergency for them to call him this late.

The voice on the other end of the line was instantly and disturbingly familiar, although it took several seconds for Giles' brain to catch up to his body's immediate reaction. "Hey, Giles. It's Angel."

Giles felt his fingers ache as they gripped the phone. Fingers Angel had broken once. "Angel. Yes, of course." He did a quick calculation, staving off the moment when he'd have to ask Angel what he wanted. "It's seven in the morning there; are you up late or rising early?"

Angel's voice when he replied was, Giles thought, just a little bit off, although he wasn't certain he knew why. "Um... up late, I guess. I've been up all night. Listen... is Spike there?"

Leaning back against the wall in the hall and wishing that this particular phone was cordless as his glass was out of reach, Giles said simply, "No," and waited for more.

Spike's account of what had happened might well have been colored by his history with Angel, but even so it had left Giles with his dislike of Angel strengthened still further. Not that he didn't appreciate the good that he'd done, not that he blamed him for Angelus' deeds -- on one level at least -- but the fact remained that they'd never been close and never would be.

"Figures," Angel muttered, and Giles thought he heard the sound of something being swallowed. "So, when'd you kick him out? Assuming he ever actually showed up there in the first place, but I'm thinking he didn't have anywhere else to go."

"You thought that and still sent him away?" Giles asked, keeping his voice even with an effort.

"I bought him a plane ticket," Angel said, with what might have been a hint of defensiveness. "I couldn't take it anymore; not the whining, and not the deliberate attempts to piss me off. You'd think he'd have toned it down once he realized that I could rip him in two now that he wasn't a vampire anymore, but no. Same old Spike." Another swallow, and what sounded like the click of ice against glass. "But why am I telling you? You already know, if you kicked him out, too."

"You misunderstood me," Giles said coldly, feeling anger stir to life. Fucking _bully_. "Spike isn't here in the house at the moment, although I expect him back shortly, but we certainly haven't kicked him out into a world he's still adapting to, with remarkable success I might add." Feeling vindictive, he added, "Humanity suits him, don't you think?"

There was a brief pause, then Angel said, "Having him out of my hair suits me."

Giles heard a key in the front door lock, then the sound of the door opening; Spike and Xander coming back from the pub, talking about something in the good-natured, half-argument sort of way they had.

"What do you want?" Giles said, dropping the games as he'd just run out of time. Xander and Spike came through the door, still squabbling, saw he was on the phone and went quiet, smiling at him and mouthing a greeting. They were both too used to Giles getting calls in and out of season to look surprised at finding him on the phone this late.

"I want to talk to him," Angel said just as directly, and Giles cursed the vampire's superior hearing when he added, "Is that him? Put him on the phone."

"About what exactly?" Giles said, trying to keep his face expressionless as Spike and Xander moved around the hall, kicking off their shoes and hanging up their coats, making very little noise and giving him no reason at all to ask that they leave him alone.

He knew that he was overstepping his bounds in trying to block Angel from speaking to Spike, but he felt no guilt at all. His feelings for Spike wouldn't allow him to do anything but protect him, and somehow he felt sure Angel wasn't calling out of any concern for Spike's well-being.

"What, are you screening his calls?" Angel sounded annoyed. "Just put him on."

"I'll ask him if he wants to talk to you," Giles said as neutrally as possible, making it quite clear, he hoped, that if Spike didn't, Angel would be listening to the click of the phone being hung up.

He turned to Spike, who was looking at him warily as if he'd picked up on the tension. "It's Angel," he said, not bothering to lower his voice. "He won't say why, but he wants to talk to you. It's up to you. You don't have to, of course."

Xander moved over to stand by Spike, his face losing the happiness it had held a few moments earlier. Spike gave him a quick glance and reached out to touch Xander's arm briefly. "It's okay, love," he said quietly. He held out his hand for the phone, taking it from Giles' reluctant hand with a nod of thanks, their fingers brushing.

"It's me. What do you want?"

The line of Spike's shoulders spoke more clearly than the tone of his voice of his suspicion, but his words, like Giles' had been, were neutral. "Yeah. Yeah." He kept his gaze lowered and moved down the hall a little, away from both Giles and Xander. It didn't seem that he wanted complete privacy -- he could have asked them to leave him alone easily enough. "Yeah, well, they like having me here." A pause. "Xander."

Giles and Xander exchanged a worried look. Giles noted that Spike's shoulders were hunched. One hand came up to rub the back of his neck. "Uh-huh. Look, did you want something in particular?"

The hall wasn't large enough that Giles and Xander could avoid hearing Angel laugh. Faint though it was, the harsh edge to it carried clearly, and they watched Spike flinch as Angel began to speak, his words an inaudible murmur, amplified and translated only by Spike's reactions as he turned his head to look at them both, his eyes filled with a questioning, searching expression as if he was reassuring himself about something.

"It's not like that," Spike said to Angel, his gaze fixed on Giles and Spike. "I earn my keep. Pay my way."

There was a pause as Angel said something and Giles watched Spike's lips tighten and twist before he lost whatever grip he'd had on his temper. "You what? Don't you fucking dare say that! Don't you -- I'm better than that. Better than _you_. Stay the fuck out of my life, Angel. You hear me?" Spike's voice rose. "Do you fucking hear me, you pathetic shit?"

The phone was slammed down on the hall table and Spike turned to face them again, his eyes wild and his shoulders heaving as he took deep, shuddering breaths.

"He -- God, he –"

He brought his hands up to scrub hard at his face and kept them there for a long moment before turning away and heading for the study where his bed had long since been turned back into a sofa.

Xander followed immediately, his instincts quick as always. It was one of the things Giles loved about him. By the time he himself arrived in the doorway to the study, Xander was close to Spike, who was pacing back and forth. Xander's arms were spread to his sides a bit, everything about his posture radiating the fact that he was there for Spike, that he'd help Spike restrain himself if it became necessary.

"I know," Xander was saying, his voice low, soothing. "He makes lots of people crazy. It's not just you."

Spike laughed, but his hands were balled into fists, and he didn't stop moving in the small space. Giles kept back, staying in the doorway because there wasn't room for all three of them if Spike needed to pace. "This isn't... Xander, please, just leave me be for a bit."

But Xander must have heard the same desperation in Spike's voice that Giles did, because he shook his head. "No. The last thing you need right now's to be alone. What did he say?"

"Said -- he said –" Spike shook his head, his face flushing with heat. He looked as dangerous as he'd ever seemed as a vampire in that moment, the rage and shame crackling off him. "Fucking _bastard_."

With that final word, Spike lashed out with his foot, kicking at the wheeled chair in front of the computer, sending it flying across the room to crash into the wall.

"Spike," Giles said, pitching his voice to break through the anger that was isolating Spike. "Please –"

"No!" Spike turned to the door, his face contorted. "You want to know what he said? He called me a fucking whore." He turned and took a step over to the wall, his fist slamming into it with a dull thud and a crack of bone, his back turned to them. His voice was cold, almost indifferent now. "Told him I was working, and he said he knew just where my talents lay. Said anyone'd be glad to pay to fuck a pretty boy like me. Said he knew why you were keeping me around now."

Spike punched the wall again, before leaning his head against it and starting to cry silently, his body shaking.

Xander was right there, putting an arm around Spike, not backing off when Spike struggled to push him away, remaining stubborn. "He's an asshole," Xander said, trying to convince Spike with gentle hands to turn toward him. "He's just pushing your buttons -- you _know_ that."

Slowly, Spike allowed himself to be turned, ending with his face hidden against Xander's neck as his shoulders shook. The sound of his angry weeping was barely audible to Giles as he crossed the room and laid a hand on Spike's back.

"Come sit down," Giles said, guiding both of them toward the sofa. He wanted to get a good look at Spike's hand, suspicious that Spike had done more damage than he'd intended to, but wanted to give it a minute.

They managed to get Spike sitting on the sofa between them, although Spike curled toward Xander as if seeking protection, half-prone across Xander's lap as he continued to hide his face.

Giles caught Xander's eye, hating the distant Angel as much for the pain he saw on Xander's face as for Spike's distress, but forcing the negative emotion away. Spike didn't need company in hating Angel -- he needed to know he was cared for. Loved, although that was still something Giles had never told him, because it wasn't something he said lightly, or easily. Not the first time anyway.

Moving as close as he could, Giles stroked Spike's hair, which had grown longer so that the ends were beginning to curl slightly on his neck, keeping his touch gentle. He put his other arm around Xander, who was staring down at the blood seeping from Spike's knuckles and looking increasingly upset as Spike showed no signs of calming down.

Giles gave Spike a little longer, until the hurt, angry sobs that sounded as if they were being wrenched out of Spike had died away, then said quietly, "Spike, look at us. Please? You're worrying Xander."

Spike's reaction to that comment, unfair though it might have been, answered any questions lingering in the back of Giles' mind. He struggled to a sitting position, wiping his face with his good hand, and glanced at Giles before looking at Xander. "It's all right," Spike said roughly. "Like you said, he's just good at pushing my buttons, yeah?"

"But you're not... that's not true. What he said." Xander's distress was almost palpable. "You know that, right?"

"He's had a couple hundred years to perfect being a bastard," Spike said, as if it were that easy to dismiss everything Angel had told him. Giles noted that this was not the same as actually reassuring Xander. "He's always been able to do this. Guess things haven't changed as much as I thought." Regretfully, Spike looked down at his battered hand.

"Everything's changed," Giles said absently, slipping his hand under Spike's hurt one and bending his head to examine it as he held it cradled in his palm. The skin over the knuckles was swollen and split, but he could flex the fingers without getting more than a hiss of pain from Spike. "We need to get this seen to, but Xander's right; you should know what he said isn't true, or else we've been doing a damn poor job of showing you how we feel about you."

Spike's head came up and he stared at Giles through wet lashes. Before he could speak, Giles asked, "Have we? Not made it clear how much we care about you? Will you believe me when I tell you that we do? Or would you rather accept Angel's judgment, which is utter bollocks, not to put too fine a point on it."

Spike shook his head, apparently not ready or incapable of answering, and Xander slid his hand down Spike's back to the base of his spine, rubbing in gentle circles. "We do," Xander said softly. "Angel has no idea what he's talking about. He doesn't know."

"He always knows," Spike said, his voice shaking, but he didn't try to pull away. He was staring down at his hand in Giles'.

"I can assure you he doesn't," Giles said firmly. "He was being insulting, but it wasn't based on fact; how could it be? He doesn't know about Xander and me, let alone what's happened over the last month." He frowned. "Well, I don't think he does... "

"He might," Spike said, sounding discouraged. "Might have been keeping tabs on me."

"No," Giles said, shaking his head as he remembered Angel's first reaction. "He didn't even know for sure that you were here, so he can't have been. He was just being a prat." Letting go of Spike's hand, Giles stood up. "I'm going to get some ice for your hand," he said, touching the back of his hand briefly to Spike's face, feeling the dampness of tears against his skin.

As he went to the kitchen, he could hear Xander talking softly, earnestly, although Giles couldn't quite make out the words. He wasn't convinced they were as important as the tone just then, anyway, as Spike didn't seem capable of absorbing the meaning.

Returning to the study with a few handfuls of ice in a plastic bag and a thin kitchen towel, Giles sat down again and wrapped the bag in the towel before taking Spike's hand and cradling the wounded back of it against the makeshift icepack. Spike hissed and tensed, then deliberately relaxed. "Thanks," he said, after a minute.

Giles lifted the bag, inspected Spike's hand, and then replaced it. "I think it's helping," he said. "But it's going to be a little stiff tomorrow, I'm afraid." He leaned back against the arm of the couch, feeling tired, and a little overwhelmed by it all, but relieved to see that Xander looked less unhappy now that Spike was calmer.

"Didn't mean to go all drama queen on you," Spike said. His voice was sounding stronger, but an edge of distance had crept into it as well, as though he were trying to deny that any of this had the ability to affect him.

"Yeah, well, like I said, Angel pisses a lot of people off," Xander said, curling his hand around the back of Spike's neck and stroking the hair there. "Plus with the way he kicked you out, I figure you're more than entitled."

Spike's head turned, his eyes meeting Giles'. "He say anything to you?" There was no hiding the worry on his face.

"He didn't say anything," Giles said, not lying, not really, but seeing no need to share Angel's exact words with either of them. "Just asked for you, and then you both came in. The rest you know." He shrugged. "He was drunk by the sounds of it, and obviously still resentful. I imagine when he sobers up he'll regret what he said, but it makes no difference. It wasn't true." He cupped Spike's face in his hand, the curve of it as familiar now as Xander's. "You know that, if you let yourself think about it. He thinks you're helpless, useless –"

Xander made a small sound of protest, but Spike just sat quietly, his eyes on Giles.

"You're not. Within days of getting here you got a job, and you're doing it well. Sarah's pleased with you and so am I."

" _You_ got me the job," Spike said.

"So?" Giles demanded, letting his hand fall away. "You're the one doing it. And don't you even think about giving any credence to the rest of what he said. Common sense should tell you how ridiculous that is."

It was very clear from Spike's expression that he didn't think it ridiculous, but Giles was out of words with which to try to convince him. He stroked his fingertips lightly over Spike's wrist as Spike began several times to say something, and then each time stopped himself before speaking.

On Spike's other side, Xander moved in closer, turning Spike's face toward him, leaning in for a kiss. Watching the two of them together made Giles ache, as it always did, even when the embrace seemed to be pure affection and nothing more. "Forget about him," Xander murmured. "He's not worth it."

"He knows me," Spike said miserably, his good hand on Xander's knee.

Xander shook his head. "No, he just thinks he does. Things are different now, and you know it." The next kiss was met by an eager, almost desperate Spike who made a small sound against Xander's lips.

Giles almost wished he could leave them alone together for a while; Xander seemed to be reaching Spike far better than he could, but he knew if he stood up to go they'd protest, so he settled for staying as quiet as possible and letting Xander comfort Spike. He could see the tension leaving Spike with each kiss, each pass of Xander's hand over Spike's back, each murmured word of reassurance. He could have felt excluded, but he didn't. The simple conviction and directness of Xander's approach was something Giles couldn't manage, and it was what Spike needed right now.

He was just glad one of them could provide it.

"There's a perfectly good bed right here," Xander said, sliding his hand over to squeeze Giles' thigh.

"No, there isn't," Spike muttered darkly. "Nothing good about it. I'm the one who slept here, remember?"

"I remember," Xander said, starting another long kiss that ended with a nip of his teeth and a whimper from Spike. "We could move upstairs?"

"You two go up," Giles said, grasping at the opportunity to give them some time alone. "I'll just make sure everything's sorted out down here and I'll be up in a moment."

Spike pulled back and turned to look at Giles. "No," he said, shaking his head and making an aborted movement with his bad hand that must have hurt before he remembered. "You come, too."

"I will in a moment," Giles said, "but –" He looked at them both, feeling helpless and unable to explain why he thought they'd be better off without him, just this once. "Wouldn't you rather -- I don't mind if –" They stared at him, identical frowns appearing on their faces, and Giles gave up. "Let's go to bed," he said.

They made their way upstairs, Spike first in line with his hand still wrapped in the ice pack and Xander behind him, hovering as though worried that Spike might not be capable of making it up the stairs. Giles followed, sorting through his feelings about the fact that neither of them had wanted to go without him, even temporarily.

Spike sat on the edge of the bed and Xander knelt on the floor in front of him, carefully unwrapping his hand and looking at the torn skin and bruising. "You don't think it's broken?" Xander asked.

"Nah." Spike curled his hand into a fist and winced. "Hurts, though."

"Next time punch something softer," Giles said dryly. "Although I grant you that's not as satisfying."

The curtains were already drawn, but he took a moment to turn on a lamp and switch off the main light, making the room feel more restful.

"When Joyce died I put my fist right through the wall in Willow's dorm room," Xander said. "Guess they build better over here; you didn't even dent the study wall."

"Or you don't know your own strength," Giles said to Xander, meaning it on more than one level. He sat down on the bed beside Spike and hugged him impulsively, feeling Spike lean into the embrace, before taking hold of the hem of Spike's T-shirt and pulling it up. Making sure that Spike's injured hand didn't get knocked, he helped him out of it, running his hand over Spike's bare chest and feeling the thud of Spike's heart against his palm.

Warm. Alive. Human. How Angel could assume Spike was unchanged was beyond Giles. Still lost for the right words, he settled for following Xander's example and bent his head to kiss Spike's shoulder where it curved up to his neck, keeping his hand flat over Spike's heart, his fingers spread wide.

Spike still had something of a throat fetish, and he tilted his head to the side, making the skin there more easily accessible to Giles' mouth. It tasted slightly salty, and the scent of cigarette smoke from the pub lingered on Spike's skin and hair. Giles inhaled and licked the pulse point on Spike's throat, sliding his hand on Spike's chest an inch or two until his fingertip rubbed over a suddenly taut nipple and Spike whimpered. "Fuck, Giles," he breathed. "Need it. You. Please."

Giles lifted his head, startled, looking not at Spike, but at Xander, sitting back on his heels and smiling up at them. Without speaking, Xander stood up and began to strip off his clothes, moving with a casual lack of haste. When Giles just looked at him, Xander sighed and raised his eyebrows meaningfully. "More getting naked, less staring," he said.

"Oh! Yes," Giles murmured sheepishly, and then rallied. "I can stare at you if I want to," he said. "I _like_ staring at you."

"Can see why," Spike said, a hum of approval in his voice before his breath caught on a gasp as Giles dragged the edge of his thumbnail across Spike's nipple. Spike reached eagerly down to the belt on his jeans and fumbled with it, swearing as the stiff strip of leather refused to cooperate.

"Let me," Giles said, pushing Spike's hand away and dealing deftly with the fastenings on Spike's jeans. Spike lay back on the bed and lifted his hips, giving them both a look from under half-lowered lids that was so blatant an invitation that Giles found himself biting hard on his lip. He and Xander both reached out a hand and tugged down Spike's jeans together, helped by a wriggle from Spike that brought a groan of desire out of Giles that he couldn't have held back if he'd wanted to.

"Exhibitionist," he growled fondly, getting undressed as quickly as he could. "The pair of you," he added, as Xander joined Spike on the bed, lying on his stomach beside him and arching his back so that his arse seemed to be begging to be touched, kissed, fucked.

Xander grinned back over his shoulder at him, looking unrepentant.

Giles couldn't resist the urge to swat Xander on the arse with the flat of his hand as he moved around to the other side of the bed.

"Ow!" Xander protested, although his grin didn't waver.

"Poor baby," Spike said. He lifted his bad hand to soothe Xander's pinkened skin, and Giles noted that Xander stayed still, not wanting to bump Spike's hand and hurt it further.

Giles got into bed, rolling Spike a bit more toward Xander so that Spike's back was to him and rubbing his erection firmly between Spike's arse cheeks, groaning when Spike pushed back against him just as firmly.

"Gonna fuck me, Giles?" Spike asked, voice suddenly gone husky.

"What do you think?" Giles said. Without waiting for Spike's reply he slipped his hand over Spike's shoulder, caressing his throat and then dragging his hand swiftly, with deliberate roughness, down Spike's body, letting his nails dig in just enough to mark the skin faintly and finishing by wrapping his hand around Spike's cock, feeling Spike buck up into the tight circle of his fingers, moaning softly.

"Yes, I'm going to fuck you, Spike," Giles whispered into his ear, licking along Spike's earlobe before sucking hard on the soft flesh, moving his hand in slow, deliberate strokes, his fingers tight around Spike's cock. "We both are," he said as Xander wriggled close enough to kiss Spike, so that as Giles worked Spike's erection his knuckles were brushing against Xander's flat stomach and the head of Spike's cock was sliding along it, leaving a trail of pre-come, sticky and warm. "Going to do anything you want tonight," Giles promised him, between the kisses he was pressing against the back of Spike's neck, still moving his hips in slow thrusts and enjoying the friction along the underside of his cock. "Going to kiss it all better," he said, fastening his mouth onto the side of Spike's neck, far too high to be covered by a shirt, and starting to suck on it hard, lapping at the trapped skin with his tongue.

Spike made a startled, desperately turned on sound and squirmed between them. Xander leaned in and kissed him, catching the next whimper that escaped him as Giles finished marking Spike and backed off enough to survey the darkening bruise with satisfaction.

"What can we do to show you?" Xander asked Spike, his cock riding along beside Giles' fist still wrapped around Spike's.

"Please," Spike begged, turning his head to look over his shoulder at Giles, rubbing against him wantonly. "Fuck me, Giles. Need it." He sounded as desperate as Giles had ever heard him.

Giles shuddered, his body responding to Spike's need with a primal surge of arousal. "God, I need _you,_ " he said. "So very much." He turned his head to glance at Xander. "Both of you –"

"We know," Xander said. He turned around, snagged the bottle of lube off the night table, and put it into Giles' hand. "Now fuck Spike. Show him."

"I will," Giles said, moving back enough to slick his cock with the lube. Spike started to shift position, but Giles stopped him. "Stay like this," he said, not wanting Spike to have to put any weight on his injured hand. "Xander –"

"Way ahead of you," Xander said, sliding down the bed and starting to lick at the head of Spike's cock, drawing a heartfelt groan from him.

Giles reached down and caressed Xander's shoulder, and then poured some lube into his hand and stroked his dripping fingers across Spike's entrance. Without bothering to do more than that, knowing Spike was more than ready for him, he pushed the head of his cock against the yielding flesh and slowly eased inside him.

Spike was hot inside, as well as unbelievably tight, and Giles locked down on his control, determined that this would be more about giving Spike pleasure than anything else. He could feel Spike trembling, could feel Spike's body tighten further around him as Xander sucked at Spike's cock.

God, this wasn't going to last long.

"Fuck," Spike muttered, shifting and making a small pained sound.

"Don't touch anything with that hand," Giles ordered, pulling out and pushing forward again, sliding deep into Spike and making him shudder. "Just be still."

"Can't," Spike said. He gasped, his breathing harsh. "Giles..."

"Come, if you need to," Giles said. "As many times as you need to. Xander and I are here to give you what you need."

Spike trembled in Giles' arms, groaning with the next thrust.

Giles's hand was gripping Spike's hip, holding him in place and giving Giles something to brace himself against as he fucked Spike. He felt Xander's hand come up to cover it, their fingers lacing together, and then Xander's fingers tightened as Spike started to come, his muscles locking, so that Giles, deep inside him, felt his cock squeezed along its length. He'd felt that before, of course, but the sensation seemed so much more profound when he knew Spike was coming into Xander's mouth, the three of them connected in that instant. He hadn't thought himself that close to climaxing, but as he'd found out a long time ago, arousal was as much mental as physical, and the sounds Spike was making, as well as the insistent, pulsing pressure on Giles' cock, brought him to the edge, but it was that single image of Xander's mouth on Spike that pushed him over, crying out hoarsely as he came, his free hand clenching around Spike's shoulder.

Spike was gasping and shuddering in Giles' arms, and Xander moved up to kiss him gently, acting for all the world as if he weren't still hard and eager himself. "Careful with your hand," Xander warned, shifting to kiss Giles over Spike's shoulder. Giles could taste Spike on Xander's tongue.

"Fuck, Giles, that was..." Spike didn't seem capable of finishing the sentence. "God."

"Been there," Xander said, pressing his mouth to the bruise on Spike's throat, then licking it.

Feeling as if even that was too much effort given the languor stripping the strength from his limbs, Giles smiled at Xander and shifted back a little, brushing his hand gently over Spike's hip as he pulled out of him. "You two bring out the -- well, I won't say the worst. Let's just say you tempt me to indulge myself, and I always seem to give in and never regret it."

Making an effort, he rolled over and grabbed the box of tissues. They'd probably all end up showering later, but Giles didn't want to leave the bed just yet. After taking care of the clean-up, he leaned over and kissed Spike, who was lying on his back, his chest still rising and falling rapidly. "We're not finished yet," Giles said, reaching across Spike and running his hand down Xander's side and around to his arse. Xander wriggled even closer, his cock hard and swollen, his face showing a slight tension. Giles couldn't blame him, and he did feel sympathetic, but God, Xander looked so good like that, his face flushed and his eyes heavy with arousal. "We're going to send you to sleep believing us when we tell you what you mean to us."

Xander nodded and leaned down, lips and teeth worrying at one of Spike's nipples, and Giles watched as Spike responded. Watched the breathing that had been evening out hitch and catch, watched the faint pink flush in Spike's cheeks turn darker.

"I'm gonna fuck you," Xander murmured against Spike's chest. "But it won't just be fucking."

"No?" Spike asked.

"No," Xander said. He slid a hand down to cup Spike's balls, then slid his fingers down below them, two sliding into Spike easily, making Spike gasp and tense suddenly as though he hadn't been expecting that. Giles knew what that felt like, to be over-stimulated and a bit sore only to be fucked a second time, and just thinking about it made his body attempt to react, his cock stirring slightly even as Spike's did. Xander shifted, moved, getting between Spike's thighs and lining up his erection. "It's going to be me loving you. Okay?"

Spike's eyes were wide, his lips parted as Xander pushed inside. His hand reached out and grabbed onto Giles' arm. "Is it?"

Giles answered for Xander, who was staring down at Spike, his expression intent and unguarded as he began to move in slow, deep strokes, his attention so focused on Spike that Giles didn't know why Spike even had to ask. "Yes, it is," he said, and then gave Spike all he could in the way of reassurance, finding it easier to say than he'd imagined in the shadows, in their bed, with the three of them so close in every way. "It's both of us loving you."

Spike's hand gripped Giles' arm tighter as he looked up at Xander, although from the way his eyes were unfocused, Giles wasn't convinced Spike was really seeing anything. His breath came in harsh gasps that sounded almost pained, and it wasn't until that moment that Giles realized the hand holding onto his arm was the one Spike had damaged. He didn't say anything, though. He knew what it was like to be that lost, and the last thing he wanted was to spoil it for Spike.

"You feel that?" Xander asked, not losing his slow rhythm. "You feel how much we love you?"

There was a whimper from Spike that Giles thought answered the question nicely. "Don't stop," Spike gasped, the words having layered meanings.

"Not... planning on it," Xander managed to say, sounding a little breathless.

Giles was aroused watching them -- impossible not to be -- but his climax was too recent for him to be hard again, although Spike's cock was full and jerking slightly with every thrust from Xander. Still, it didn't mean he had to be an observer... The bottle of lube was within reach and using his free hand he managed, at the cost of a few drops spilled, to coat his fingers. Shifting closer, with Spike's hand still wrapped around his other arm, Giles ran his slippery fingers across the back of Xander's balls, smiling at the result, as Xander, surprised, drove forward hard into Spike, making them both moan.

Xander turned his head for a second to look at Giles, and Giles, still smiling, although he doubted he looked amused exactly, let his fingers slide up and graze across Xander's opening before pushing a finger inside him.

Xander felt hot and smooth inside, tightening around Giles' finger with each thrust. "Fuck," he muttered. "Yeah. You're both... oh God." He hesitated for a moment, drawing in a desperate-sounding breath, then thrust forward again, creating a new, quicker rhythm that had Spike moaning in seconds.

"Xan..." Spike said Xander's name like that occasionally, most often when they were in bed, and every time it seemed to affect Xander the same way it did Giles. It was so intimate, so open, that it made the old, shuttered Spike seem like a thing of the distant past. "God, love, _please_..."

"Giles –" Xander said, riding Giles' fingers as he rocked back and forwards, each stroke accompanied by an open-mouthed sound from Spike, raw and needy. "Touch him –"

Spike's hand on Giles' arm tightened and then moved away, allowing Giles to reach between Spike and Xander and surround Spike's cock with his hand. He wasn't sure he could coordinate well enough to do any more than that, but it seemed to be enough, judging by the increased intensity of the sounds Spike was making.

"Oh God," Spike gasped, writhing beneath Xander. " _God._ Yeah. Like that. Oh fuck, I'm gonna come." The sound he made as his body arched and shuddered was strangled, his head tipped back and the cords in his neck standing out, his jaw thrust forward.

Xander froze when Spike started to come, eyes squeezed shut, arms trembling. If Giles hadn't had a finger inside him and felt it, he wouldn't have known that Xander was coming, too, silently, gloriously, looking like a young god. Giles felt powerful, eternal, as the two men in bed with him both relaxed suddenly, groaning and gasping for air and, in Xander's case, laughing.

"What's so funny?" Spike asked, although he didn't sound upset as Xander pushed himself up again.

Xander shook his head, still laughing. "Nothing. I mean, that was just so... wow. You know?" He leaned down and kissed Spike very tenderly.

Giles rolled onto his back, feeling exhausted, but in a good way. "'Wow'?" he said with some incredulity, shaping the word carefully. It wasn't the word he'd have gone with at all. "Wow," he said experimentally. "No, it's not growing on me." He shrugged, turning his head and giving them both a grin. "But as long as it means you're happy," he said tolerantly. His gaze drifted to Spike's face. "Are you?" he asked. "Because now that I think about it, maybe this wasn't the best way to convince you that we want you for more than just your body. And we do, you know."

Spike did looked blissfully relaxed as Xander lay down on his other side, but as soon as Giles spoke, a hint of what might have been regret flashed across his face. It was there and gone again so quickly that Giles didn't think Xander could have possibly seen it, and he was grateful for that, because he knew it would have hurt him.

Although it could easily be argued that Giles might be a bit overprotective of Xander at times.

"Don't get much happier than this," Spike said, his voice sounding close to normal.

"I'm voting for the kind of happier that comes along with a nice hot shower," Xander said, kissing Spike's shoulder. "Not that I'd mind sleep, either, but I don't want to wake up glued to the sheets." It was a horrid thought that made Giles shudder.

"I think a shower's an excellent idea," Giles said. "I just wish it didn't involve moving." He turned and put his arm across them both, feeling the heat radiating from Spike's body and sighing with unfeigned contentment. "Love you," he murmured without thinking, closing his eyes just for a moment.

Spike tensed underneath his arm, then sighed and relaxed. Giles wasn't sure if it was because what he'd said was accepted, or because Spike didn't want to talk about it, and either way he wasn't convinced that this was the right time. If Spike wasn't convinced, it was because he wasn't ready to be.

Giles mustered up enough energy to open his eyes again. "You'd better let someone else scrub you down, Spike and use that hand as little as possible," he murmured. "Much though the idea of you, me, and some shower gel appeals, I might let Xander handle that. I'm about to fall asleep here. Why don't you two use the shower up here and I'll go downstairs?"

Yawning, he sat up, scratching at his chest.

"Did we wear you out, Giles?" Xander asked, with his tongue very much in his cheek. "Maybe we could keep a bottle of one of those energy drinks by the -– ow!"

Giles shook his hand, which was stinging slightly from meeting Xander's backside for the second time, and left while Xander was still spluttering and Spike was still chuckling.

*****

"Come on, you," Xander said affectionately as Giles started downstairs and Spike continued to lay sprawled on the bed, flushed and sleepy. "There's no way we're going to sleep like this. Up."

"Was already up twice," Spike grumbled, but he sat and rolled to the edge of the bed, favoring his sore hand.

"I'll take care of everything but the walking," Xander said. "That's the rule. You have to get there on your own two legs."

"Think I can just about manage that," Spike said, standing up and proving it by heading toward the door. He glanced back at Xander. "I can manage to wash myself, too, you know." He spread his fingers, wincing slightly. Xander saw the scabbed-over skin split, although it didn't start to bleed. It looked painful. "Still, wouldn't want Giles to wallop your arse again for not listening to him, so I might as well let you take care of me, as he seems keen on the idea."

Xander followed Spike into the bathroom and brushed by him. "I've got it," he said, starting up the hot water, and then looking at Spike's hand again. "That's going to sting like hell."

"Yeah." Spike shrugged. It was hard to figure out what was going on inside his head, and that bothered Xander. He wanted to know. He didn't like not knowing. "Don't worry about it."

"Seems like a pretty casual attitude for a non-vampire," Xander said, even though he tried to be the same way. And it wasn't like it _was_ some serious injury, even though he was sure it hurt. "Okay. Into the shower."

Spike gave him a faint smile. "Giles bosses you, you boss me; is that it?" Without waiting for an answer, he stepped under the water, hesitating for a split second and then holding his hand out so that the spray streamed over it, the noise of the shower drowning out any sound of pain he might have made. Judging from the way his lips tightened, none would've been audible.

"Don't be stupid," Xander said, stepping in to join Spike and pulling his hand out from under the spray. "It'll be clean enough by the time we're out of here anyway. Come here." He slipped an arm around Spike's waist and nuzzled the back of his neck, kissing the warm, wet skin there. "Let me take care of you, okay? Please?"

"Don't know why you want to," Spike said, dropping his head so the words were almost washed away and Xander had to listen really hard to catch them all. "Get why you want to fuck me, yeah, because that's good for both of us -- all of us," he amended. "Taking care of me though -- isn't that just a pain in the arse? Especially the way I've been since I got here?"

He sounded curious, genuinely so, and Xander wondered if Spike had ever really heard anything they'd said to him over the last month. For someone who'd spent a century looking after Drusilla, he didn't seem ready to accept that for once he was on the receiving end.

"You took care of me when I was sick," Xander pointed out, reaching for the soap and working up a lather. He ran one hand over Spike's chest, closing his own eyes and concentrating on the feel of Spike's body. "I mean, I won't deny that you have your moments, but we all do. Of, you know, being a pain in the ass. That doesn't mean I don't want to help when stuff gets screwed up. I love you." The words weren't hard to say, and Xander kissed Spike's shoulder again after he said them.

"You're both saying that a lot tonight," Spike said, but he didn't sound as if he was objecting.

"Yeah, but is it sinking in?" Xander asked, getting lost in the way Spike's skin felt under a thin layer of soap. Giles was tired, Spike had come twice, but Xander was starting to feel as if he was going to end up jerking off in the shower or something, the way his cock was reacting, which verged on just plain greedy. He didn't think Spike would appreciate him turning the shower to cold to take care of it -- if that even worked. Somehow, the thought of Spike's body, his nipples hard under the icy water, his mouth open on an exhilarated yell, eyes sparkling -- no, wasn't helping at all. Xander stepped back a little and started to wash himself, mindful of the fact that with Giles showering as well, the hot water might run out and make the cold shower inevitable.

"I hear you," Spike answered, turning around, his gaze dropping and a smile crossing his face as he saw that Xander was hard again. "Just think you're both going to regret it. I screw things up. Always have. Don't mean to, especially not with you two, but can't seem to help it."

Distracted as he was by his physical problem, Xander couldn't help but hear how strongly Spike believed that. "You're not going to screw this up. Not any more than I will. I don't have the greatest track record for this kind of thing, either, which, I'll point out, you're perfectly aware of." He quickly soaped his cock and balls, trying to pretend his erection would go away on its own in a second or two, trying to pretend like Spike didn't see.

Spike shook his head, looking rueful. "You've got a point there," he said. "But you're still willing to try again? With Giles, yeah, can't fault you there. He's ..." Spike caught his lower lip between his teeth, and then grinned. "You know what he's like."

"Oh, yeah," Xander said. "Trust me; I know how lucky I am."

Spike nodded. "He makes sense. I don't." He ran a finger down Xander's stomach, stopping a crucial inch away from the tip of Xander's cock and holding Xander's gaze with his own. "Maybe you're just thinking with this," Spike said, not unkindly. His hand dropped and Xander gasped as Spike's warm hand teased at his balls. "Tell me you love me when you're not hard, pet," Spike said, sounding different, sounding like the Spike Xander had spent years wanting and hating and fighting with back in Sunnydale. "Might listen then."

Xander tensed. "You're not playing fair," he complained, watching Spike's face, wanting to believe that Spike really was playing and not serious.

Spike reached out and switched off the water before running his hands back over his wet hair, sending rivulets of water over his shoulders and chest. "I'm not playing," he said in the sudden quiet. "And I'm not trying to piss you off." He looked at Xander and rolled his eyes. "Not the best place for a talk, is it?" He stepped out of the shower and picked up two towels, passing one over to Xander. "See, I think you mean it -- now –" Spike said, starting to towel himself dry with the towel held a little awkwardly in his uninjured hand. "Just think once the novelty wears off, you'll be wishing it was the two of you again. And I can't say that I'd blame you. I've been thinking this was a new start, but I'm still the same." He shook his head a little bit. "Bloody annoying that it was Angel who made me realize it, though."

"Spike-" Xander began.

"No," Spike said. "I don't mean all that crap he gave me tonight. I just mean -- I don't get this. Love. Last time I was human -- first time around -- I was the most pathetic –" He sighed. "I've never loved anyone who loved me back. Not properly. Not the way I felt for them. I don't do it by halves, you see. All or nothing. I'd do anything for them -" His eyes flickered as if he was remembering nightmares and he swallowed hard. "So this -- you two -- yeah, I want to think it's real, want to think I can count on it, trust you, but give me time, yeah? It's only been a month, right? Used to be able to hold my breath that long."

Xander was still holding his own towel, still just standing there looking at Spike. And yeah, it _hurt_ to know that it didn't seem like there was a way to get through to Spike, to convince him, but that didn't mean Xander was going to give up. Nope. Spike was scared, but Xander was stubborn, and he could be stubborn a hell of a lot longer than Spike would stay scared.

He hoped.

"Come here," Xander said. He didn't wait to see if Spike would, just pulled the smaller man in flush against him and held him. At first, Spike was resistant, but after a minute he sighed and relaxed, pressing closer to Xander, warm and pliant in his arms. "You can have all the time you need," he said softly. "We're not going anywhere. And we're not going to change our minds, either. You'll see."

Spike tilted his head back suddenly and kissed Xander hard, his mouth desperate and avid at first until he seemed to get that Xander wasn't moving away, and then the kiss gentled, with Spike's good hand slowly caressing the back of Xander's neck and making him shiver. It ended with Spike blinking up at Xander, something that looked like hope in his eyes. When he spoke, though, it was clear that the subject had been changed.

"You're supposed to be looking after me," Spike said, "but that doesn't mean you have to catch your death of cold, you know." Using his own damp towel, he gave Xander's back a brisk rub. "Come on. Dry off and let's get back to bed before Giles thinks we've disappeared down the plughole or something."

"Right," Xander said, still trying to absorb everything that had been said in the last hour or so and failing miserably. Bed, though; he could do that. He quickly finished drying himself off and followed Spike back to the bedroom, where Giles had already changed the sheets, climbed between them, and was now looking about ninety percent asleep.

He gestured at the bed for Spike to get in the middle -- they hadn't settled the issue of whose side of the bed was whose yet, but as far as Xander was concerned, he wanted Spike between him and Giles where, hopefully, Spike would feel loved. Getting in beside Spike, Xander pulled the covers up over them and smiled as Giles mumbled and snuggled closer to Spike, slipping an arm around his waist.

"You okay?" Xander whispered to Spike.

There was a moment's silence, and then Spike's hand reached out, brushing across Xander's cock, which at some point had finally gotten the message that he was tired and pushing his luck and subsided.

"Yeah, I still love you," Xander said softly. "Idiot."

Spike chuckled just as quietly. "Yeah. I am. Only just discovered that? 'Night, Xan." There was a slight pause, and then he added, "Love you, too," before closing his eyes, leaving Xander nothing to do but listen to the sounds of two men sleeping in the ninety seconds before he joined them.

*****

Almost a week after the Angel incident, Xander got home from work to find Spike frowning at the papers he was translating at the kitchen table.

Spike looked up at him standing in the doorway to the kitchen and the frown deepened. "What?" he asked, like he was being unpleasantly interrupted by Xander's presence.

"Hi, honey, I'm home?" Xander suggested. "Bad day?"

"No. It'd just be nice if every once in a while I could have enough time to get something done," Spike said, looking back down at the papers in front of him.

"You could work in the study instead," Xander said. It wasn't the first time he'd pointed that out.

"Don't like the lighting in there," Spike muttered, rubbing at his forehead.

Xander went to get a glass, and poured some water from the jug in the refrigerator into it before taking it over and setting it down next to Spike. What with all those vampire years, Spike sometimes forgot to do those little necessary human things like eat and drink. "Did you have lunch?"

Spike's fingers moved down to rub at his eyes, knuckling them until Xander's began to water in sympathy. "Lunch? No. Yes. Fuck, I don't know! I'm not hungry anyway. Got this headache –" He gave Xander a glare, as if daring him to comment, and then stared fiercely at the papers through screwed-up eyes. "Look, let me get on with this, will you? Or I'll have Sarah on my back and God knows I don't need that."

Not liking the way Spike's lips were pressed thin with pain, Xander shook his head. "No. Look, take a break for a while and I promise after dinner we'll give you as much quiet as you need to finish, okay? But you're not gonna get anything done now anyway, not like this. You want some aspirin?"

He thought Spike was going to snap at him again and braced himself, but Spike just took a deep breath and then crumpled in on himself, giving Xander a tiny nod and wincing as if even that had been too much. Xander had had those spiked-bowling-ball-inside–the-skull headaches, himself, so he kept the rummaging through the cupboard for the bottle of aspirin as quiet as possible.

Spike swallowed the tablets with the water and carried on sipping at it as Xander watched him, leaning against the table and wondering how long Giles was going to be.

"Sorry," Spike said eventually, giving Xander a contrite smile. "Just been doing this all day and getting nowhere. Whatever stupid sod wrote this must've done it with his eyes shut. I keep staring at it and it's blurred –" He frowned. "Think maybe there's a spell on it, or something?"

"Honestly? No, I think you're trying too hard." Xander went over and sat down next to Spike, dragging Spike's chair a few inches across the floor until they couldn't get any closer, then he put his arms around Spike and pulled Spike's head to rest on his shoulder. "And I don't really mean this literally, but you don't have to kill yourself over this. It's not life or death stuff. If you're hurting, stop for a while." He spoke softly, not wanting to make Spike's headache worse.

Spike made a little sound that Xander decided to take as agreement.

"You want to go lie down for a while? I could come with."

"Don't know," Spike said. "Maybe. What time is it?" He lifted his head from Xander's shoulder and looked across at the clock on the far wall of the kitchen. Xander watched Spike frown as if he was concentrating, and then he pulled away, stood up and walked closer to the clock. "Five," he said with an air of discovery. "Giles'll be in soon and he'll want something to eat. I'll get the table cleared."

"I could do it," Xander offered, but he wasn't surprised when Spike shook his head and started to neaten up the papers himself. He knew what Giles was like, how everything had to be in a certain order, and it seemed like that was something that just came with the translating territory. He heard the front door open and close, and went to meet Giles in the hall. "Hey," he said, trying to sound less worried than he was.

Giles gave him one look and asked, "What's the matter?" which proved that either Giles read minds or Xander really shouldn't be surprised about the way he always lost at cards. He came a little closer, dropping a heavy briefcase on the floor, and gave Xander a searching look and a quick kiss. "Did something go wrong at work? That special order for the cabinet wasn't cancelled after the wood arrived, was it?"

Xander shook his head as much at himself as in answer to Giles' questions. "No -- work's fine. Spike has a headache. Again." Sure, the previous ones hadn't made him all cranky, but there'd been at least a couple of times when Spike'd had headaches, and what was that they said about three times not being a coincidence, or something? "What if..." Xander lowered his voice so Spike wouldn't hear. "What if there's something wrong? Like... I don't know, a brain tumor or something?"

He was waiting for Giles to scoff at him for jumping to conclusions, but an expression that matched his own passed over Giles' face. Before Xander could really start to panic, though, Giles patted his shoulder, his face smoothing out as if he'd realized that only one of them could go to pieces at a time. "That's a little unlikely, Xander," Giles said. "Don't borrow trouble." He walked into the kitchen, Xander following him, to where Spike was sitting at the table again, his head in his hands, and said quietly, "Spike?"

Spike lifted his head and tried to smile. "Yeah. Hi, Giles. Don't know what Xander's been saying, but it's just a headache."

"I'm sure it is," Giles said. "But that doesn't mean we can't try to find out what's causing them." His gaze went to the papers stacked up on the table. "Do you find it's worse after you've been reading?"

"I suppose so," Spike said after a moment's thought. "Bound to give anyone a headache though, with people writing with quill pens from cross-eyed birds." He gave the papers a contemptuous flick of his hand. "Letters keep going all fuzzy on me, that's all."

"Ah," Giles murmured, making it sound like 'eureka'. He turned his wrist and glanced at his watch. "Get your coat."

"Why?" Spike demanded.

"Because there's an optician's in the High Street that's open until six and it's –" Giles broke off and nodded at the clock on the wall. "What time _is_ it, Spike?"

Xander watched as Spike's gaze went over to the clock, feeling stupid as it finally clicked. He could see the same sheepish expression on Spike's face that he was sure he was wearing himself. "Bloody hell," Spike muttered, sounding relieved. "You really think that's what it is? Was starting to wonder if I'd come back with my brain scrambled."

"There's nothing wrong with your brain," Xander said loyally, as Spike got up.

"No, just my eyes, apparently," Spike said.

"Well, we'll have to see what they say," Giles said comfortingly, resting his hand on Spike's shoulder for a moment. "You're obviously not seriously short-sighted, or you'd have realized before this that there was something wrong. It's just that you're still getting accustomed to having human senses rather than vampire ones."

"Suppose so," Spike muttered. "God, wouldn't you have thought when they gave me a new body, they'd have fixed my eyes?"

"Fixed them?" Xander asked.

Spike gave him a slightly surprised look. "Yeah; wore specs when I was human before, didn't I?"

Giles sighed. "What were you saying about there being nothing wrong with his brain, Xander?" he asked.

"I didn't know!" Xander said, at the same time Spike said, "Fuck off," to Giles in an I'm-irritated-but-let's-pretend-I'm-just-joking kind of way.

"Had better things to worry about," Spike continued, looking sullen. "Angel, for one. Never even gave it a thought."

"Well, perhaps you should have done," Giles said a little tersely, obviously not reacting well to Spike telling him to fuck off. "And I fail to see how pointless fretting about Angel takes precedence over your health."

"The way I am now? Fretting over Angel _is_ fretting over my health," Spike said, holding his arms out at his sides. "He could have killed me, and I'm not stupid enough to think he'd feel guilty about it afterwards, either. And it's not like I _wanted_ to stay there with him. Was never so bloody glad to get away from someone in my life. So don't blame me for..." Spike stopped and shrugged. "You know what? Forget it." He started toward Giles like he was intending to push past him and leave.

Xander sometimes forgot that, when he wanted to, Giles could move pretty fast for a man pushing fifty. Spike got level with Giles, jostling him as he stalked past with the faintest trace of a sneer on his face, and Giles' hand shot out. Suddenly, Spike wasn't moving anywhere, because Giles had a fistful of Spike's shirt.

"Forget it?" Giles said, in a voice Xander had heard him use before and still wasn't sure if it belonged in his nightmares, or the dreams he woke up from hard and whimpering. "I don't think so."

"Let go of me," Spike said. His face was inches away from Giles' and the pallor caused by his headache was lost in a flush that could've been anger.

"No," Giles said. "Any more requests?"

Xander didn't say anything, because this was obviously not the kind of situation you got in the middle of. Spike didn't say anything, either; just stood there, refusing to back down, refusing to look away from Giles' gaze. He was so tightly wound that Xander could see him trembling, and had to hope that it was with something other than anger toward Giles. The last thing Xander wanted was to see what would happen if Spike hit Giles, because he was pretty sure it would end up with someone bleeding on the floor, and he was pretty sure that someone would be Spike.

"Let go," Spike said again, finally, with maybe a touch less fury in his voice.

Giles moved his head slowly from side to side once and brought his free hand up to Spike's neck. In contrast to the tight grip he was maintaining on Spike's shirt -- and Xander was sure he'd heard the fabric tear slightly -- he exerted barely any pressure as his fingers circled Spike's throat, his thumb stroking along the corded muscle of Spike's neck with an assured, controlled touch.

"You've let us take over your life," Giles said, his voice calm. "Decided you couldn't cope in a dozen areas and expected us to handle everything. Perhaps we've been too eager to help you because we love you. Yes, I think we have." The thumb stopped moving. "But when it comes to ignoring something like this, you've gone too far. I can treat you like a child if you like, Spike, punish and reward you accordingly, but is that really what you want? Do you want us to take Angel's place? _Do you_?" Xander was swallowing dryly now, unable to look away. "And I'll let go of you when you apologize, Spike, to both of us."

Spike was silent for so long that Xander started to suspect the apology would never come, but after almost a minute there was the slightest relaxation of his shoulders, and then he muttered, unconvincingly "Sorry."

"Oh, that's not half good enough," Giles said, and for the first time in a long time, Xander saw him angry. "Try again, Spike. Make me believe _you_ for a change."

Giles' hand slipped around and up, his spread fingers raking through Spike's hair, gripping onto the back of Spike's head.

"I'm waiting."

Two words and Xander was hard, responding to the tension in the air in a way he wouldn't have expected, given that he'd grown up in a house where raised voices and threats weren't a sign of anything but dissatisfaction and frustration.

Not that Giles was doing either of those...

Another very long pause, and then all the fight went out of Spike at once. Xander could almost see it in the shiver that ran through him, and his voice was almost inaudible as he said, "Sorry. I'm sorry." Spike tilted his head forward, letting his forehead come to rest on Giles' shoulder like he didn't have the strength to hold it up anymore, and it took a lot for Xander to stay where he was, to not go to them.

Giles had Spike in his arms at once, holding him close, his hands firm and gentle as they rested against Spike's back, his face showing a tenderness far more familiar than his anger, to Xander at least.

"Thank you," Giles said, almost under his breath, and it was as if it was for both of them, which was why Xander found himself going to them after all, slipping his arms around their waists. He got his first kiss not from Spike, who was still clinging to Giles, but from Giles, who kissed him with enough of that dark edginess still flavoring it to have Xander feeling that Spike's eye examination could wait until the morning, but Giles fucking both of them shouldn't wait for more than the time it took for them to get naked.

"M'sorry," Spike said again, lifting his head. It seemed to be mostly to Giles, which was okay with Xander, who wasn't totally sure what the apology was for anyway. There were little stress lines around Spike's eyes, and he was looking at Giles like Giles was bigger and scarier than Angel at his Angelus worst. Not like he was afraid of Giles, though. Well, not like that, at least. More like he thought he didn't deserve Giles' forgiveness or acceptance.

"I'm sorry, too," Giles said with a sigh. "I was worried, and then you, you just -- and you don't even know you're doing it most of the time, do you?"

"I know," Spike said. "Just don't know how to stop it." He turned to look at Xander, his expression troubled. "Not mad at me?"

"No. Confused, maybe, but not mad," Xander said, tightening his arm around Spike and leaning in for a quick kiss.

They stood like that for a moment longer, linked and close, before moving apart, exchanging somewhat self-conscious looks. Giles looked embarrassed, as if his reaction -- or over-reaction -- had startled him as much as it had Xander.

"I'll put the kettle on," Giles said, going over to fill it as if he was glad of the chance to do something normal and drama-free. "I don't think we'll make it to the optician's in time now, but they'll be open tomorrow, if that's all right, Spike?"

"Sure," Spike said, dragging back a chair and sitting down at the table again. He pressed his fingers against his forehead a little gingerly, but didn't seem to be in as much pain as before. "Another few hours won't matter, and now I know what's wrong, it feels better, somehow."

Xander went over and rubbed the small of Giles' back as Giles filled the kettle. Giles kept a lot of tension in his back when he was upset, and Xander had learned that touching him there was a pretty good indication of how he was doing. Giles turned and smiled at Xander reassuringly, so Xander went over to the table and sat down next to Spike. What he wanted to do was pull Spike into his lap and hold him like that, but he wasn't sure Spike would like that, and he wasn't sure where the instinct was coming from.

Giles finished getting the teapot ready, taking longer than normal, as if he was using it as an excuse to keep his back turned, and then joined them at the table. Without preamble, he said, "If I ever do that again, feel free to tell me I'm being a complete idiot. I certainly feel like one." He shook his head, giving Spike an apologetic look. "I know you're different now, and Lord knows the way I feel about you has changed for the better, but when you... challenge me like that, I react as I would've done when we first met, and that's so very unfair of me." He placed his hands on the table, his fingers loosely clasped, and stared down at them. "I suppose we all have different buttons. You've always been able to hit mine with a frightening accuracy."

"No," Spike said, shaking his head and reaching out a hand to cover one of Giles'. Xander was pretty sure he'd deliberately chosen the one with the slightly crooked fingers. You couldn't really tell by looking at them, but when you were touching them, you could feel where they weren't completely straight. Xander felt a surge of anger toward Angel -- for what he'd done to Giles, for what he was still doing to Spike. "I deserved it," Spike said. "Sometimes that's just... what I need. To get me to listen. Though I will say I appreciate that you didn't hit me, even though I probably deserved that, too." Spike was smiling a little bit, ruefully.

" _Hit_ you?" Giles said, sounding a little disconcerted, curling his fingers around Spike's hand as he spoke. "Spike, I'd never -- I don't recall hitting you when you were a vampire, and being particularly annoying, so I'm hardly likely to start now you're human and we're in a relationship." Giles looked a little angry again, but Xander was pretty sure it wasn't Spike he was mad with. "You shouldn't be glad I didn't hit you; it shouldn't be something you'd expect from me." His fingers tightened around Spike's in an unspoken appeal. "I'm not Angel. I won't act like him, or treat you as he did."

Spike nodded, but he was looking down at the table now, not up at either of them. "Wouldn't blame you if you did, though." He put his other hand over his eyes and sighed. "Sorry. Bloody headache's making me maudlin."

"I think you're allowed," Xander said, rubbing the back of Spike's neck gently. "We'll get some food into you, and then you can lie down for a while."

Spike dropped his head even lower and made a soft sound of pleasure as Xander's fingers found a new spot to massage. "Feels good," he said. "Think it's helping."

"Is that a hint?" Xander said with a grin. He stood up, moving to stand behind Spike's chair and using both his hands to work at the tight muscles along the base of Spike's neck and over his shoulders. Giles glanced at them as he went to finish making the tea and smiled, the final lines of tension smoothing out of his face.

"So I'm getting sent to bed in disgrace, am I?" Spike said, as Giles put a mug of tea in front of them both, sounding plaintive and putting a quiver in his voice that had Xander snorting with disbelief.

"You say that as if you expect to be fed on dry bread and water, spanked thoroughly and locked in a dark cupboard for an hour." Giles said, raising his eyebrows and clearly trying hard not to grin. "Don't you _want_ to rest for a while?"

"Want to go to bed," Spike said with a little more sincerity. "Don't want to go alone, though."

"I think we can arrange something," Xander said, patting Spike's shoulders and reaching over him for his mug of tea. It was just a little bit too hot, but it had been a long time since lunch and he was, he realized belatedly, starving. "But first, food. Someone," he told Giles, "couldn't remember if he'd had lunch or not."

Spike sat up a little bit straighter. "I did," he said.

"Actual food, or a package of chips?"

"Crisps," Spike corrected him.

"Is that a yes to the no actual food?" Xander asked.

"Yeah," Spike said. "It was just... I was in a groove. Didn't want to lose my place."

"Maybe I should start making you a sandwich before I leave in the morning," Xander said. "Or call and remind you to eat at lunchtime."

"You two should meet up for lunch at the shop," Giles said, rummaging in the fridge and emerging with a large steak. "It'd do you good to get some fresh air, Spike, and if you're there, Xander might actually stop working while he eats."

Xander thought about what used to happen when Giles joined him for lunch, which he hadn't done since Spike turned up, and felt a tingle start, low down, at the thought of Spike bent over the table in the back room.

"If we want something soon, I think we'd better skip the baked potatoes," Giles continued.

Xander realized that maybe Giles didn't always want to be the one doing all the practical stuff and went to help him. "There's stuff for salad," he said, patting Giles' hip to get him to move out of the way. "You do the steak and I'll wash lettuce." There were some mushrooms and peppers in the vegetable bin, too, so he took those out and set everything beside the sink.

"I could help," Spike offered, from his seat at the table.

"No, you couldn't," Xander said. "Stay there. Rest. Drink your tea."

Spike propped his chin on his hand and smiled at him. "Whatever you say, Xander. Whatever you say."

*****

"That's the last cup of coffee for you, young man, or you'll never get to sleep tonight," Spike said firmly, dumping the dregs from the pot down the drain.

"Since when did you become Giles?" Xander asked, frowning and drinking his coffee quickly like he was afraid Spike would take it away from him if he didn't. Which, from Spike's perspective, wasn't a stupid thing to be afraid of.

"Giles and I both know what you're like when you've had too much coffee." Spike went over to sit at the kitchen table, picking up his new eyeglasses and slipping them on surreptitiously. He'd had enough comments about the new specs and didn't want any more if he could avoid them, not that it was easy to wear the things without anyone noticing. "So. What's the plan for today?"

"Other than 'try not to lose my mind?'" Xander didn't look worried, though. "I have three orders that need to be done by the end of the week, so I'll be working hard. Hence the chemical stimulant." He gestured with his coffee mug.

Coming back into the kitchen with the file he'd gone upstairs to get, Giles frowned. "Tell me he hasn't had more than the one cup of coffee?"

"I could tell you that, Giles, but it would be a lie," Spike said. It came out sounding primmer than he'd expected it to, and he scowled in an attempt to earn back his bad-boy cred. "I have to deliver this to Sarah by two, then I've got some errands to run. Should be back in time to start dinner, though."

"Don't feel you have to rush back," Giles said as Spike began to sort through the papers in front of him. "By the sound of it, Xander and I won't be back until late; I've got a meeting set up for the afternoon, and if Appleby takes his usual fifteen minutes to introduce the topic you might not see me until midnight." He opened his briefcase and slipped the file inside, closing it with a decisive snap. "Right, I'm off. Have a good day, both of you." Spike straightened, expecting Giles to come over and kiss him goodbye, and found himself staring at a closing door.

"Got to go," Xander said, rinsing his cup and leaving it on the side. He did come over to the table, bending down to kiss Spike, but when Spike took a handful of Xander's T-shirt and tugged him closer, he stepped back. " _Really_ got to go, Spike. There's a delivery of lumber due, and if I'm not there they'll either dump it on the sidewalk, in which case it'll be gone before they get back in the truck, or drive off and it'll be days before they schedule me in again."

"Fine," Spike said, trying not to sound grumpy. "On your bloody way then. Not like I'm not busy, too."

"Bye," Xander said, disappearing into the front hall and, from the sounds of it, struggling to put on his boots without sitting down, which always resulted in some cursing.

After the house was quiet, it didn't take Spike long to get lost in the translation he was finishing up. It took the whole morning and he didn't finish until just after one, which left him without enough time for lunch -- and it wasn't until then that he realized Xander'd never called to remind him to eat, which he'd been doing faithfully for the past week. Spike sighed, ignored his growling stomach, and tucked his new spectacles into the pocket of his T-shirt before packing up his stuff and heading out to meet Sarah.

He didn't even think about trying to pop in and see Giles while he was at the Council offices; he'd done that once before when Giles was in a meeting and learned his lesson. Sarah was pleased to see him, though, which was something, and she promised she'd have more work for him the next day.

Spike discovered on his way out that he only had a few pounds on him -- enough to get home, at least -- and that he'd left his bank card at the house. He distinctly remembered setting it on the phone table in the hall.

Without enough cash for lunch and no way to get more, Spike headed back to the house. He could get something to eat there, and then decide whether or not to go out again.

The house felt different, somehow, when he closed the front door behind him. Some sense of caution made him stand still in the hallway, looking around, but there was nothing there that shouldn't have been. Then he saw Xander's work jacket slung over the banister rail and relaxed. Xander must've come back early for some reason. Spike glanced into the kitchen and the living room, but they were empty. Moving quietly in case Xander was taking a nap, and feeling a stirring of concern in case the lad was ill again, Spike went upstairs.

He was halfway up the stairs when he heard Xander cry out, answered by a low murmur that brought another cry from Xander, as if it had been accompanied by an action. Spike felt nothing but bewilderment for an endless moment, but it wasn't because he didn't know what was going on. No. Easy enough to figure that out. Xander was getting fucked and he only ever sounded like that when Giles was the one doing it.

Breathing unevenly, his heart pounding, Spike forced himself to finish climbing the stairs. The bedroom door was half ajar and he pushed it open just enough to see them, just enough to make sure -–

Giles and Xander were on the bed, naked, and even in his misery, Spike couldn't help responding to the sight of them. Xander was on his hands and knees, one of Giles' hands tangled in his hair, the other on his hip. Giles was bent over him, his hips moving in a controlled rhythm, thrusting inside Xander in deep, relentless strokes, his voice harsh and desperate as he said Xander's name, telling him he loved him -

Without saying a word, and before either of them could see him, Spike turned and went quietly back down the stairs. He felt... well, he didn't really feel anything. Empty, hollow, like his heart had suddenly stopped beating. Part of him wished it had.

They'd known he was going to be out. Thought he'd be gone a lot longer. Told him they both had busy days planned. Xander couldn't even be bothered to phone him and remind him it was lunch time. All of these thoughts echoed around inside Spike as he reached the foot of the stairs and stood in the hall, listening to Xander as he cried out in release, hearing as Giles came, too.

Giles and Xander didn't need him. He'd known that all along, but he'd let himself be fooled into thinking this was something it wasn't. Now, with the proof that they were sneaking around behind his back, lying to him...

His bank card was right where he'd left it, on the phone table. Spike picked it up and slipped it into his pocket. Then, on second thought, he took his spectacles -- the spectacles that Xander and Giles had taken him to get, that he'd never be able to look at or through without being reminded of them -- and set them on the table beside the telephone.

Spike didn't know where he was going to go.

That didn't stop him from shutting the door just a little bit too loudly on his way out.

*****

Giles sighed with contentment and pulled Xander into his arms. "Love you," he murmured again, realizing that since Spike had become part of their lives, he was saying that a good deal more and finding it easier every time. It was as if Spike, never particularly reticent about sharing his feelings, had rubbed off on both of them, he thought.

He felt a fleeting regret that Spike wasn't with them. Having his meeting cancelled because Appleby's cold had turned to bronchitis had left him with an empty desk, and he'd headed home, after finding out from Sarah that Spike had been and gone, hoping to find him there. He'd been so busy the last few days that he felt as if he'd hardly had time to speak to either of them, let alone do anything like this.

He kissed Xander's shoulder and felt Xander's breathing slow down a little. They'd arrived home at the same time, Xander forced to give up work for the day after a power cut that had affected the whole street and left him working in a windowless room with no lighting and no power tools. Xander had smiled, kissed him, said something about going to take a shower to take care of the sawdust clinging to his body, and Giles had nuzzled into Xander's neck, smelling warm skin and the familiar scent of wood and got hard between one breath and the next...

They'd started right there, moved to the shower, and ended up in bed. Which was, as far as Giles was concerned, the perfect place to spend an afternoon.

From downstairs, there was the unmistakable sound of the front door closing.

Xander turned slightly in Giles' arms and looked at him. "Did you hear that?"

Giles nodded and sat up. "Spike?" he called, and listened. There was no reply.

"Maybe he doesn't know we're here," Xander said, getting up and reaching for a pair of brushed cotton trousers that was on the chair beside the bed. Giles got up as well, putting on his robe in lieu of actual clothes because it was closer, and they went downstairs together.

"Spike?" Xander said, reaching the bottom of the stairs and looking around. There was still no answer, the ground floor as silent as if Giles and Xander were the only ones there.

"Perhaps he just came back in to grab something and didn't hear us," Giles suggested. "Well, he can't have heard us, can he, or he'd have joined us." He stared at the hall table, and then nodded to himself. "His bank card was on the table when we came in; I remember thinking he'd kick himself for forgetting it because he wanted to do some shopping; it's gone now." Giles shrugged. "He must have literally just put his head through the door, grabbed it and left. Damn; we could've all gone somewhere; it's not often we're all free on a weekday."

"He left his glasses," Xander said, frowning and reaching out to pick them up. "Well, maybe he thought he wouldn't need them. I don't think..." He paused. "How could he not have heard us? We weren't being all that quiet."

Giles chuckled. "We weren't being quiet at all," he said. He stared at the glasses Xander held and lost the desire to laugh. There was something a little worrying about them being abandoned on the table when Spike had been so pleased by the difference they made. His headaches had cleared up immediately, and he got the most endearing smile on his face when he looked at something and saw it clearly without having to squint.

"You don't suppose he felt awkward about interrupting us, do you?" Giles said, trying to put himself in Spike's place. "Although you'd think he'd have been so glad to find us here that he'd have just come straight up to join us." Giles gave Xander a questioning look. "I would have, I think," he said, frowning slightly. "Wouldn't you?"

"Yeah," Xander said. "But this is _Spike_ we're talking about here. You don't think..." He looked very worried suddenly. "You don't think he felt left out?" The worried look intensified, if that was even possible. "Fuck. Giles, you don't think he thought we were sneaking around, do you? We weren't supposed to _be_ here."

"I know," Giles said, "but how can it be sneaking around when it's _us_?" He reached out and rubbed his hand along Xander's bare arm reassuringly. "If he thought you were here with someone else –"

"Hey!"

"Well, exactly," Giles said, smiling at the absurdity of it. "But if he heard us, he must've known it was just you and me and –" He held out his hands helplessly. "What's wrong with us making love? It's not as if you and he don't..." Giles' voice trailed away. "Uh, you do, right?" he asked. "Or you have... at some point...?"

"Without you?" Xander asked, giving a little shake of his head. "No. I mean, I guess we could have, but we just.... didn't. It didn't seem... I don't know. And I didn't know how you'd feel about it."

"I'd have wished I was with you both, of course," Giles said, "but it wouldn't have bothered me at all. Why would it? I assumed with you both working so close together that -- well, I just assumed it had happened now and then. I didn't ask because –" He pushed his hand through his hair, flushing slightly. "Imagine it: 'Hello, Xander, Spike, have a good fuck at lunchtime today?' It would've been a little embarrassing, to say the least. And it's not as if it _mattered_." Giles stared at Xander. "You didn't mind what we just did, did you?" he asked, feeling completely lost and wondering what else he'd been missing, assuming everything was going well. "Didn't feel we were doing something wrong? Oh, Lord, Xander, I hope not!"

"Don't be stupid," Xander said, his tone making it clear that _he_ was the one feeling that way. "We've always... since before Spike was here. It's just different, you know?" He was frowning. "So have you and Spike ever? When I wasn't home?"

"It isn't different," Giles protested. "If this is going to work, Spike can't feel that there's something special about you and me. And I don't see any reason at all for sex to be banned unless all three of us are there. I'm going away next month for a few days; do you and Spike plan on sleeping in separate rooms? Because I can't see you sharing a bed for three nights and doing no more than kiss each other goodnight!" Xander opened his mouth, and Giles guessed what he was about to say and added, "No. We haven't. But if I'd felt like it -- as I did with you just now -- I would have suggested it." He was starting to feel quite indignant now, he realized. "And if he'd said, 'No, I'm not in the mood,' I wouldn't have minded at all, but if he'd said we had to wait four hours for you to get home from work, I'd have been bloody stunned."

Xander looked indignant. "Wait; so now this is _my_ fault? Look, Giles, I'm sorry if this -- the three of us -- isn't falling into whatever expectations you had for it, but it hasn't been that long, and I'd never even considered trying to do -- whatever this is -- before Spike showed up. I figured it would be a miracle if I could have an actual relationship with _one_ person that didn't implode when I was least expecting it. And that when it _did_ implode, it'd be mostly my fault. So yeah, okay, sure. If you want to pin the blame on me, go ahead."

"Your fault? When did I _ever_ say it was your fault?" Giles demanded. "And what expectations? I don't have expectations! I have the two of you, which is more than I'd ever dreamed of, but I don't _expect_ anything. Certainly not for it to all go swimmingly, given our track records, but making difficulties out of thin air like this –" He shook his head. "You couldn't have asked? Said something? It was easier to assume that I'd got all manner of rules about who did what to whom and where?" He heard his voice get louder and tried to calm down. This really wasn't helping.

"I didn't think you had rules," Xander said, sounding miserable and wrapping his arms around himself. He looked up. "Giles... what if I really _did_ screw things up?"

All Giles' anger fled as he saw the shiver that passed over Xander, leaving nothing but concern. Stepping forward, he hugged Xander hard, brushing a kiss over his hair. "God, I'm so sorry, love," he murmured. "And of course you haven't. You haven't done anything wrong at all." Giles pulled back enough to be able to met Xander's eyes. "You do realize that we don't even know for sure that that's what happened?" he said, trying to smile. "We've invented this dire scenario, and it really could just be that he's gone off shopping and he'll be back soon. And when he does get back, we'll get this all sorted out, I promise."

Seven hours later, it was a promise that Giles was beginning to doubt his ability to keep. Spike hadn't turned up with armfuls of shopping. Hadn't turned up in time to start dinner. Hadn't turned up in time for dinner at all, though Giles and Xander had cooked a meal and sat at the table pretending to eat it until Xander had given up the pretense and put his plate in the refrigerator. Eventually, they'd moved into the living room and curled up on the couch together with the television on and both of them listening for the sound of Spike's key in the lock.

"He's not coming home," Xander said finally, when it was nearly midnight. He got up and went to the window, looking out, then turned back around and looked at Giles. "What are we going to do?"

"I don't know," Giles admitted, giving up hope himself. "He could just be in a pub somewhere; one of us could stay here and the other go around the ones he usually drinks at?"

"The pubs will be closing in a few minutes. Besides, he'd be unconscious by now if he's been drinking all this time," Xander said, then looked even more worried. "You don't think he could be at a hospital or something, do you? Should we start calling around?"

Giles drummed his fingers against the arm of the couch. "We could, but there's a simpler way. Unethical and a misuse of power, but I'm not going to lose sleep over it. Not if there's a chance Spike's in trouble." He met Xander's eyes and smiled faintly at the question in them. "Have you forgotten my day job?" he asked. "Head of one of the world's most powerful secret organizations? When it comes to finding people -– well, it's part of what we do, and we're damn good at it. I can track Spike across the globe if I have to, but I doubt it'll come to that. Mystical means or mundane, I can find him."

He stood up and went to make a phone call. It took fifteen minutes to get him an address.

"He checked into a cheap hotel near to Heathrow airport two hours ago," Giles reported, watching the relief on Xander's face change to panic at the implications.

"You don't think he's -- " Xander started, and Giles shook his head.

"The accounts he has access to don't have any credits to an airline as of just now," Giles said. "So if he's planning to leave the country, he hasn't got as far as buying a ticket yet."

Xander looked grim. "Let's get over there before he can."

*****

Spike stared at the bottle of vodka he was half-way down, clamped in his left hand, and the phone he'd dragged off the table by the bed into his lap. Decisions, decisions... one more drink before he started dialing, or would that tip him over the edge so that his carefully-rehearsed insults, honed over the last few hours, became an incoherent rant?

"You're a total fucking tosser," he said experimentally to the empty air of the hotel room. Sounded all right to him.

The hours of walking, drinking, and putting as much distance as possible between him and the house had dulled nothing of the pain he'd felt as the door had slammed behind him. Nothing. He only had to think of the pair of them betraying him, laughing at him, not loving him like he'd thought they did, and a raw agony ripped through him, leaving him wishing he'd stayed dust in the alley. Too fucking much. Every single fucking time he thought he'd got something right it was taken from him.

"Never bloody learn," he whispered. "Stupid, stupid boy..."

He was too drunk to remember just when Angel had said that to him the first time, but he could remember the last time he'd had those words flung at him, Angel's eyes dark with misery and malice as he pointed at a ticket to England.

Angel. Yeah.

Spike's finger stabbed down hard, pressing out a number he knew off by heart. It rang three times, and then a sleepy voice answered.

"Yeah?"

"Angel. It's me. Spike. Guess what, you useless wanker, I'm coming home."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Angel said.

Spike frowned at his feet, wriggling his toes inside his boots, toes which were starting to feel numb. "Seemed pretty clear to me. Sitting here in a hotel near the airport and I'm coming back to fuck up your life the way you've fucked up mine. Seems fair to give you a bit of warning, right?"

He wasn't sure he wanted to go back to the States, but it was starting to seem like a good idea. Not like he had anywhere else to go.

"Yeah," Angel said. "I appreciate that. Because this way I can tell you not to come."

"It's not up to you," Spike said. "You're the one that sent me here. Fucked everything up."

"That makes twice you've said that. What's fucked up?" Angel asked.

"Everything," Spike said bluntly, letting an ounce of vodka slide down his throat and shuddering. "And whose fault is it? Yours, mate, that's who. How about you sending me over to Giles? Get a taste for torturing him, did you? Felt like making him suffer a bit more? Or maybe it was Xander you were trying to hurt. Yeah. Never liked you, did he? Bet that had to stick in your fucking throat."

"I just wanted to get you out of my hair. I didn't even know Xander was there." Angel sounded irritated. "Anyway, they sounded happy enough about having you around when they called me."

"When they what?" Spike said, resting the bottom of the bottle on his knee.

"They didn't tell you? They called me the next day after the last time we talked. Yelled at me, pretty much. Said that they were both in love with you and that if I called again they wouldn't let me talk to you, not even to apologize -- not that I was going to do that anyway."

"They did what?" Spike shook his head, not caring that Angel couldn't see him. "What are you trying to pull, Angel? Why would they do that? They don't love me. Never did. Want to celebrate being right 'gain? Like fucking _always_?"

Angel's voice was surprisingly gentle now. "Yeah, well... it sure as hell sounded to me like they love you. They were pretty pissed off at me, that's for sure. So... it turns out I was wrong about that. Just don't let it go to your head."

"Won't," Spike said, feeling the words gather and spill from his mouth, bypassing his brain. "Won't, because they've stopped. Don't love me any more, and why the hell should they?" He sighed. "Got each other. Don't need me. Don't _want_ me. Proved it today."

"They came right out and said it?" Angel asked.

"Well... no." Hadn't needed to, had they.

Angel made a frustrated sound. "Look -- I don't have time to talk you through this, and I don't really care what you do as long as you _don't come back here._ "

"It's your fault," Spike said with as much clarity as possible. "And you can bloody well listen while I tell you why, or I'll pack this fucking phone in my carry-on bag and the first thing I'll do when I see you is shove it so far up your self-centered arse you'll call Australia every time you sit down on said fat, fucking arse, okay?"

"Fine," Angel said, sighing. "Tell me why it's all my fault."

As soon as Angel said that, Spike stopped knowing why. It'd seemed really clear in his head, but now it'd gone fuzzy. Like the room. He missed his glasses, even if they did make him look like a prat, he was sure of it.

"If you hadn't sent me here, I'd never have fallen in love with the pair of them, would I?" he said sullenly. "Never mind that, though–" Angel made an exasperated sound, but Spike ignored it. "Why did you call me, anyway? Never did find out." Spike flexed his hand, remembering how it'd hurt. "Made me so fucking angry I put my fist through a wall. Don't recommend it when you're human. Xander was doing up the buttons on my shirt for two days afterwards, because my fingers wouldn't bend right."

There was a pause, during which Spike was aware of the sound of his own breathing and the utter silence on the other end of the line. He knew that Angel, with his vampire senses, would be able to hear him breathing, and he wondered how that felt. "I don't know why I called," Angel said. "I was drunk. Wanted to see what you were up to."

"I'm drunk and I called you because I was miserable," Spike told him, a flicker of curiosity kindling. "Why were _you_ drinking? Not like you found out people you love have been screwing 'round behind your back. Not like you found out they'd been lying to you." He thought about taking another drink, sighed, and put the bottle down. Didn't taste good any more. "And since when did you give a rat's arse about what I was getting up to, as long as I was doing it far, far away?" He sighed again. "Am a long way away, aren't I, Angel? You missing me yet? You think they'll miss me?"

"God, what time did you start drinking?" Angel asked. "Actually, what time is it there? No, never mind. It doesn't matter. And they're not going to miss you because you're not going anywhere. What do you mean, screwing around behind your back?"

Loyalty to Giles and Xander kept Spike silent for a moment before he remembered that they didn't deserve it any more. "Came home. Found 'em fucking, didn't I? Not s'posed to be home. Didn't think I would be. Planned it." He was running out of words now and feeling tired, with the tears anger had held at bay beginning to form in his eyes. "Couldn't wait for me to go, so they could be by themselves again. Just them. That's how they want it."

"Wait," Angel said, sounding confused. "You came home and they were having sex _together?_ Just the two of them?"

"Yeah," Spike said.

"But I thought they were, you know, together before you showed up."

"Yeah."

"I'm not seeing how that's screwing around on you. Did they _tell_ you they wanted you to leave?" Angel asked.

"Didn't give 'em chance," Spike said coldly. "Heard them, together, in _our_ bed, when they were supposed to be at work. Contrary to what some people think, I know when I'm not wanted, and I got the hell out of there. Probably not the first time it's happened either. Bastards. All they had to do was _say_. Didn't have to lie about it, make me look stupid. _Laugh_ at me.... "

"Sorry, I don't buy it," Angel said.

"What?"

"I don't buy that two people who called me up to yell at me for upsetting you -- two people who told me more than once that they were _in love with you_ \-- not just that they cared about you -- suddenly don't give a shit." Angel sounded a hell of a lot calmer than Spike felt. "Sounds to me like you ought to give them a chance to explain."

"Fuck off," Spike snarled, refusing to let himself admit that there was a possibility Angel was right. "Like you're such an expert on either of them. Wouldn't have sent me to them if you'd thought for one minute I'd have ended up happy, would you? You thought they'd kick me out. Thought they'd hate me. You _wanted_ them to hate me."

"You're not making any sense, you know."

Spike bit his lip hard enough to hurt, hard enough that he felt it. "Never bloody do, do I? God, I hate this. Should be there with them now. Tucked up between them. That's where they put me, y'know. Sleep between them, and doesn't matter which way I wake up, there's always one of them there, smiling at me and kissing me, and you've no idea what they're like, Angel. Wear me out, they do, but it's not just that. Not just the sex, though God that's so fucking good. We talk and they take care of me. Look after me... God, why did they have to do that to me? Doesn't make sense. Does it make sense to you, Angel?"

"You're the one talking crazy," Angel said. He sounded bored, and Spike thought suddenly that he was wasting his time. Angel didn't care about him any more than Giles and Xander did. Possibly less. So why was he talking to him? Why didn't he have someone else to talk to, someone who _did_ care? Was he really just that fucked up that he couldn't even have a _friend_?

Spike drank another huge swallow of vodka and almost dropped the bottle as he choked. "I hate you," he told Angel, conversationally.

"Yeah, well, I hate you, too," Angel said. "Which brings us back to the question of why you called me."

Spike took great, savage pleasure in hanging up on Angel without another word.

And less pleasure in realizing that he didn't know what the fuck he was going to do tomorrow, and he'd left everything he owned back at the house. He couldn't even storm off properly, could he. God, he didn't even have his passport! So much for all his threats to visit Angel. Maybe he could hang around outside the house tomorrow; wait for Giles and Xander to go to work, and then he could collect his things. Assuming they weren't already dumped on the step, of course.

In the silence of the room, Angel's words started to play back in his head, bringing a frown to his face. So they'd phoned him, had they? Something else they hadn't told him. He went from being angry that they thought he couldn't deal with a prat like Angel by himself to wishing he'd been there to hear them lay into him. Xander was almost as good as Spike was as the jabs that hit home hard, and Giles knew just how to get under Angel's skin with that lethal politeness of his.

"Bet they made you fucking squirm," he muttered. "Serves you bloody right."

The faint glow from picturing that encounter faded fast. Still didn't excuse what they'd done. He remembered them on the bed together again and his hand tightened into a fist, hearing an echo of Giles' voice, hoarse and passionate, Xander's answering groan of pure pleasure. If he'd been there, he'd have been close to coming just from that, the way the pair of them sounded when they were close. Few nights ago it'd been him Giles was pounding into, every stroke driving him towards coming so hard his fingers ached afterwards from the hold he'd had on the sheets, twisted in his hands.

Warm and slow, the tears gathered and fell from his eyes, blurring the room still further.

The knock at the door was so sudden and unexpected that Spike twitched, but he ignored it. He'd paid for the room, it was his, he could use it as he bloody well pleased.

Another knock, more insistent. Familiar. And then Giles' voice in the hallway. "Spike? Open the door."

"No," Spike said hoarsely. His heart was pounding in his chest, though. Gave him away, even to himself.

"Do you want us to break it down?" Xander.

Slowly, reluctantly, Spike got up, gripping the neck of the vodka bottle in his hand as he went over to the door and pulled it open just enough so that it was unlatched.

Giles' hand curled around the edge of the door, meaning that Spike couldn't slam it without hurting him. "Spike, we're coming in no matter what you want, so I suggest you step back and let us."

"Spike, please," Xander said, sounding desperate. "We have to talk to you."

Spike stepped away from the door and walked over to the bed, turning his back on them both. He lay down again, still not looking at them. "Right. You're in. Now what? Come to make sure I'm leaving? Needn't worry. I'll get my stuff tomorrow and be out of your way -- oh." He glanced up at them. "That's why you're here, is it? Brought my kit with you?"

Looking at them was a mistake. Xander was pale, his eyes huge in his face, and Giles looked furious and loving at one and the same time, which was a combination that got to Spike on too many levels to be ignored.

Xander came right over and got down on his knees on the floor so that his face was on level with Spike's. "We came to bring you home," he said.

"Place is your home, not mine," Spike said. Fuck, he didn't even have a space that was his in that house, other than a drawer in Giles' chest of drawers and the sometimes use of the kitchen table when he was working.

"That's not true," Xander said. "Maybe things haven't been perfect, maybe we screwed some stuff up..." He glanced up at Giles. "But it _is_ your home. Because it's ours, and we need you."

"Yeah? Didn't seem that way this afternoon. You seemed to be managing fine without me." Spike managed a sneer, hoping they couldn't see that he'd been crying. "Didn't even hear me come in, did you? Course, you weren't expecting me to be home. Lot of that going around, right? Because I sure as hell got the impression you two wouldn't be around until later."

"My meeting was cancelled at the last minute," Giles said quietly. "I went home hoping to find _you_ there, actually. It was a coincidence that Xander's building had a power outage and he was there instead."

"We didn't plan it, if that's what you're thinking," Xander added, reaching for Spike's hand and looking hurt when Spike pulled it away. "It just... happened."

Giles made an impatient sound. "Xander, you're not to apologize for what we did." Spike stared up into Giles' face, feeling indignant. Bugger wasn't even going to say sorry?

"Spike," Giles said, his voice tight with what seemed to be anger, and maybe a bit of hurt, "there's obviously been a misunderstanding here. I can't say that I'm pleased with your way of dealing with it, but let's get one thing straight, since you and Xander both seem to share the same erroneous belief. There's nothing wrong about two of us making love when the other isn't around. It isn't a betrayal of any sort, and I'm still trying to work out how you two got it into your heads that it was." Giles sat down on the bed, close to where Xander was kneeling, his face softening a little. "I like the idea that if I'm not there, Xander's got you. In every way. To talk to, to be with -- and yes, to make love with. Why not? We're in a relationship, for God's sake." He reached out to touch the back of his hand to Xander's face, the loving familiarity of the gesture making Spike's eyes sting with sharp tears he blinked away quickly. "This whole thing began because you two couldn't keep your hands off each other; do you really think I expected that to change?"

"Wasn't his fault," Spike said, because somehow it was easier to talk to Giles like Xander wasn't right there. "Was right there, wasn't I? Doesn't surprise me after all this time that people want me. Want _this._ " He ran the hand Xander had tried to hold over his chest and belly to cup his wholly uninterested cock. "Shouldn't have surprised me to find out that that was _all_ you wanted. And then that you didn't even want that anymore." He couldn't look at either of them.

"You know what, Spike? Fuck you." Xander stood up and spat the words out like he hated Spike, and even though that hurt, it didn't seem wrong. "We -- _I_ want you. And not just for the sex. _You're_ the one that's running away, pushing us away. So don't blame this on us." He reached over and wrenched the bottle of vodka out of Spike's hand and took it to the other side of the room, setting it down on the desk hard enough that for a second Spike thought he might have broke it. Then Xander came back over to the bed, climbed onto it and Spike, straddling Spike's waist even as Spike struggled to get away, to get out from under.

Xander's mouth came down hard on his, bruising, not letting up. At first Spike fought it, then, when it became obvious there was no point, he went limp, not participating. As soon as that happened, Xander's lips became soft, coaxing, Xander's hands on Spike's face cradling it, and Spike felt a sob well up in his chest.

"Don't hurt him any more," Giles murmured. Spike wasn't sure which of them Giles was talking to, but the thought of Xander being hurt by him wasn't one he could live with. Surrender was easier than he'd imagined with Xander's mouth kissing away his bewildered resentment and hurt, and he found himself hugging Xander fiercely, kissing him back until Xander broke the kiss and smiled down at him.

"Xander," Spike whispered. "Oh fuck, I'm sorry, love."

"Does that mean you won't do it again?" Xander asked. "Because when you didn't come home..."

"I won't do it again," Spike promised rashly. "Not if you still want me." He was elated, astonished, hopeful. He wanted to take both of them in his arms and hold them, touch them, reassure himself that this moment was real.

"How could you think that we didn't?" Giles asked, sounding mildly exasperated. "You really don't listen very well, you know."

Spike struggled to sit up, helped by Xander moving off his lap to sit beside him. "Giles –" he said, looking at him doubtfully, knowing how Giles reacted when Xander was upset and not sure if Giles was still too annoyed with him to be in the mood to be hugged.

"I love you. I want you. I was worried," Giles said gently. "Now stop crying and come here."

"'M not crying," Spike said with as much dignity as he could manage, moving closer to Giles.

Giles' mouth gave the little twitch that meant he was trying not to smile, and he brushed his fingers across Spike's cheek and held them up. "Yes, you are." He brought his wet fingertips to his lips, kissed them and pressed them against Spike's lips. "Stop. Please?"

"I didn't know," Spike said, genuinely surprised, but then he was in Giles' arms, and Giles was kissing him, and none of the rest of it mattered.

Xander curled around him from behind, kissing the back of Spike's neck, one arm around his waist. "We love you," Xander murmured. "Both of us. _I_ love you, just as much as I love Giles."

"And we're stubborn," Giles said, drawing back just far enough to meet Spike's gaze. "We aren't going to let you go."

"That's right," Xander said. "You're stuck with us."

"If that's what you want," Giles clarified, as though he was worried they were coming on too strong, although he hadn't needed to. Hearing them say that made Spike feel loved, and they couldn't say it often enough for him. "We can talk about it more, sort things out -- anything we need, but just -- don't go."

"You called Angel," Spike said, remembering. "Shouted at him."

Giles and Xander exchanged glances.

"Yeah, we did," Xander said. "Do you mind?"

"Mind?" Spike shook his head. "I was surprised, though."

"We don't want him hurting you anymore," Xander said. "We don't want _anyone_ hurting you. Including us. Which means if we do something stupid, you have to _tell_ us. Not just walk out."

Spike turned his head and rubbed his cheek against Xander's in agreement. He was exhausted suddenly, the combination of the day's emotions and all the vodka stretching him thin and almost dizzy. He clung to Giles' shirt front with his hand, not wanting to let go. "M'tired."

"Yeah, I'll bet you are," Xander said sympathetically. "Here, lie down. Giles, get his shoes?" Spike felt Xander's hand disentangling his own from Giles' shirt and he whimpered -- he couldn't help it. "Shh. It's okay," Xander said, lying down and pulling Spike into his arms, holding him tightly as Giles took off Spike's boots and dropped them onto the floor.

"Don't go away?" Spike said, his voice muffled against Xander's neck.

"We won't," Giles said from behind him, arms warm and comforting, his chest pressed to Spike's back. "Get some sleep. We'll both be here when you wake up."

Reassured, Spike slept.

*****

"You're scraping the wall!" Giles said, wincing as he watched a curl of wallpaper flutter down, gouged out by a corner of the chest of drawers Spike and Xander were trying to carry up the stairs.

"It's heavy," Xander said, his face flushed. "Built to last."

Spike paused long enough to give him a fond look, and then adjusted his hold on the piece of furniture. "Course it will, love. Hundred years from now, it'll be worth a fortune. An original Harris."

"Hey, less with the mocking," Xander said, taking a careful step backwards as Giles held his breath. This time the angle was right and there was a clear inch between the chest of drawers and the wall.

"I'm serious," Spike protested. "You're good at this, Xander. Really are."

"He is," Giles agreed, following them up the stairs to the spare room and watching them maneuver the chest of drawers into place against the far wall. "That's perfect." He pursed his lips. "Well, possibly a little to the left?"

"I'm going with 'perfect'," Spike said firmly. "And if you want it moved, you can shift it yourself, Giles."

The location of the chest didn't matter, Giles decided. What mattered was the happy smile Spike was wearing as he looked at it, his own piece of furniture. A piece of furniture that Xander had made specifically for him. The look of surprise and pleasure on Spike's face when he'd first seen it down at Xander's shop two hours before had made the hours of work more than worth it, Xander had confided to Giles under his breath.

They'd decided to move all three of their chests into the spare room, making it into a sort of dressing area and leaving just a small chest and the closet for their bedclothes. The space this had freed up had left enough room in the bedroom for a writing desk near the window, and a brand new desk lamp, still in its box, was sitting on the floor beside the comfortable chair Giles had ordered through work. It was Spike's very own work space, where he could spread out his papers and not have to clear them every time they had a meal. Xander and Giles had discussed it in private and decided to let Spike choose whether to have the desk in the spare room or the bedroom, and Spike had quickly said he'd prefer the bedroom, then gone on to demonstrate why it was his favorite room in the house by drawing them both down onto the bed and removing their clothes piece by piece.

Kneeling on the floor and opening the bottom drawer, Spike put the jeans Xander handed him in and shut it again. "This really is beautiful, love," he said, running his fingers over the glowing wood.

Xander beamed. "I'm glad you like it."

"Maybe you could teach me how to do it," Spike went on. "Could start off small. A little box, or something?"

"Uh..."

Giles rescued Xander, repressing a shudder at the thought of the damage Spike could do to himself if let loose with a saw, hammer and nails. "Did you have any interests when you were younger, Spike?" He thought of the neglected garden behind the house and said hopefully, "Gardening, perhaps? I seem to recall the Victorians were very keen on that..."

"Because I react so well to spending time in the great outdoors?" Spike said, rolling his eyes. It was true that he sunburned absurdly easily, and it was still a struggle to get him to spend any time outside as he adjusted to sunlight exposure again. "Nah. I'm busy enough," he said, but there was something wistful in his voice that had Giles filing away this conversation as something that should be revisited in the near future.

"It looks good in here," Xander said, hands on hips as he surveyed the room. The bed was still there, although they'd talked about replacing it with a couch or something else that would take up a bit less space.

"It does," Giles agreed. He stared at the bed and then smiled, going over to it and sitting down, bouncing on it experimentally. "You're the only one who's ever slept on this bed, Xander. Is it comfortable?"

"Not bad," Xander said with a grin. "I wasn't in it for long. You seduced me and lured me next door, remember?"

Spike chuckled. "Can't blame him for that." He stood up and went to Xander, giving him a quick kiss and then taking his hand and drawing him over to the bed to join Giles. "I'm having trouble imagining you two saying good night and toddling off to separate rooms, though."

"God, it was awful!" Giles said, remembering those early weeks. He turned to them, reaching out for Xander's hand and leaning against Spike, who slipped an arm around him at once. "I used to lie there for hours, wishing I had the courage to knock on your door and say something about how I felt. I'd picture you in bed and feel so guilty for wanting you -" He shook his head. "And you wondered why I was so irritable in the mornings."

"I thought you just didn't want me around," Xander said, grinning, because they'd had this conversation before and it amused them now.

"How'd it happen the first time?" Spike asked. His hand slid up the inside of Giles' thigh slowly, tantalizingly.

"Oh, you know," Xander said. "He just couldn't resist me."

"I kissed him," Giles said. "When he was washing dishes at the sink. His hands were wet and covered in soap suds, and I'd been standing there behind him, watching his arse as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and I couldn't bear it anymore."

"He kissed me, and then I kissed him back, and the next thing you know, my hands were on his ass." Xander was smiling as he remembered it.

"And then he just had to take off his trousers, because they were all wet," Spike guessed, not far off the mark. His fingers had slid higher, pressing against Giles' growing erection. "And he put this to good use."

"Not then," Giles said, breathing a little faster because of the look on Xander's face as he stared down at Spike's hand as much as what that hand was doing. Giles had to admit that it was a kink he shared. Spike wasn't keen on watching the two of them for long without joining in, but Giles doubted he'd ever get tired of seeing Spike and Xander kiss and touch and fuck, and Xander always got that intense, aroused look when Giles was with Spike. "Later, yes, but then -- God, Spike! -- I just pushed him against the table and went down on him, and I came just from tasting him for the first time."

Giles arched against Spike's palm, gasping as Spike's hand rubbed slowly along his length. "Have you forgotten how to take down a zip?" he demanded, wanting to feel Spike's hand on his bare skin.

Spike shook his head, clicking his tongue in a reproving way. "That sound impatient to you, Xan?" he said. "Remember what Giles did last time _I_ was in a rush?"

"Eager," Giles said. "Not impatient; eager. Quite different."

Spike didn't seem particularly inclined to tease just then -- his fingers were already pulling down Giles' zip and sliding inside Giles' boxer shorts to touch his cock. "And this was the first cock you ever had inside you," Spike said to Xander, squeezing the tip and making Giles groan.

"Yup," Xander said, watching.

"First one you ever had in your mouth," Spike murmured, sliding to his stomach and giving Xander a perfect view of Giles' cock getting a leisurely lick from Spike's tongue that left it quivering and wet-tipped.

Giles glanced up at Xander, whose eyes were dark with longing, whose lips were slightly parted, then back down at Spike as his tongue slid up the length of Giles' shaft again, toying with the foreskin. Giles' stomach muscles tightened as he waited.

"Yeah," Xander answered hoarsely.

"Wouldn't mind being your first something," Spike said, bending his head to suck on the tip of Giles' cock for just an instant, an instant that had Giles panting. Spike looked at Xander. "Ever been tied up?"

"What?" Xander blinked in what had to have been surprise. "No."

"What about fisted?" Spike asked.

Xander was wide-eyed in a way that Giles had to admit was particularly appealing. "No."

"Good," Spike said, bending his head and breathing warm air over Giles' cock. "Gives us something to aim for, doesn't it."

"What about you?" Giles said, trying to get out of his shorts and pants without disturbing Spike in any way. "Is there something we can do to you that no one else has?"

Spike paused, his hand wrapped around Giles' cock, and smiled at them both. "Keep loving me?"

"We can do that," Xander told him.

"Good enough for me," Spike said softly.


End file.
